


Blood Right

by Evina1234



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha Harry, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Ankle Cuffs, Attempted Murder, Blood Drinking, Blood Magic, Blood and Gore, Blood rings, Bonding, But different take, Chains, Conflict, Deception, Dictator King, Different races, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Language, F/M, Falling In Love, Fantasy, Forbidden Love, Forced, Friendship, Game of Thrones References, Gen, Heartbreak, Heavy Angst, Heir to the throne Zayn, Human, Human Liam, Injustice, Inspired by Game of Thrones, Inspired by The Originals (TV), Lies, Loss of Powers, Louis and Zayn are distant cousins, Love/Hate, Lycan rituals, M/M, Magical Realism, Manhandling, Mating Bond, Noble Louis, Non-Linear Narrative, OR IS IT, Pain, Power Play, Prince Harry Styles, Prince Zayn, Prison, Revenge, Royalty, Slavery, Swords, Temptation, There are so many Tags I've probbably forgotten, Torture, Vampire Louis, Vampire Niall Horan, Vampire Zayn, Vampires, War, Warlocks, Werewolves, assasination efforts, monarchs, not really - Freeform, power games
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2020-07-25 13:09:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 105,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20026354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evina1234/pseuds/Evina1234
Summary: “Is that-him?” someone next to Louis ask.“It is. Who else can be in red if not for him today?”Beside Louis, Lady Camellia had her eyes locked to the  figure in red, as same as many others around them.“My... He looks dashing." the first one licks her lips, eyes darkening in a laced lust. "Who would've known? Thought he'd be in chains, stuck in a dark dungeon."The other scoffs. “Have you been under a rock? He's the most privileged Lycan alive. The King's ward, some go so far as to call him his consort. It’s all hushed, but I have my sources.” she reveals like a dirty secret.In a world where the Vampires have taken over, Humans are just blood farms, Warlocks are extinct while the King has Lycans under his thumb - eliminating the threat of lethal bite. The world is falling apart. Louis, nephew to the mad Vampire King, lives away from it all in blessed ignorance until he gets dragged into the chessboard that traps him in front of a green eyed Prince who is bound to a miserable fate.Or where Louis wants to save Harold, the Prince of Lycans, when Louis' allies want him DEAD





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers!!!  
This is my second attempt at Fanfiction. The plot has been with me for a long time and has become quite a burden.  
The story is SiFi fantacy, and a bit different from my first. But similarly, angsty, detailed, long and dark. And Harry centric. I've changed, adjusted names to fit the story. But You'll know who's who without much ordeal. I will upload some maps and stuff that will make it easier to read the story (sorry I'm a nerd) eventually.
> 
> Also, I'm exploring into some social norms that might be controversial to some... though no single society or belief/ religion is targeted. And this is a pure fanfiction AU. None of the characters represent anyone in real life. I'm just burrowing the names and their faces. Please Do Not Copy or Re- Post without consent. The story plot and writing is mine.  
Sooo…. if anyone's up for a some angsty romance, star-crossed lovers, werewolf, vampire, magic, royalty amid a political chess game... well that's what this one's going to be.

Story cover art are [here](https://pin.it/cnzqsstq47w2to). I just love making collages for these.

If anyone want to send a message, Tumblr : [evinaadlene](https://evinaadlene.tumblr.com/)

**BOOK 01**

** Prologue **

Foot steps.

_Klaus_ hears the faint sound drag along the paved path towards his direction. In a beat, his hand goes to the sword, ready to strike if necessary. The mass of willow leaves swings lazily in the night breeze, mocking the silence in the darkness. He listens.

The footing grows closer along the hard paved ground. There are two of them - he could tell. His nostrils flare up, but he does not risk moving an inch, knowing that they would sense it if he so much as breathe heavy... the _undead_ filth.

The long willow twigs hangs like a green wall around him, sweeping the ground, covering him from sight. So they won't spot him there, under the shadows in an array of thick weeping willows. Not unless he wanted them to. But one could ever be too sure.

He had been careful so far... for almost a week. Hiding in the day and coming out in the night. It had been a challenge, even with his skills as a ranger and a hunter. If not for the potions in his pouch, he wouldn't have lasted a day in this hell bound city. And it is all over if he is caught. Everything will be lost.

Task at his hand had seemed impossible at first. But after long nights of observing, calculating and planning, somehow there seem to be a way. Though, even with all the preparations, it's all nothing but red rotten risk. But it's a risk he has to take for the sake of his people. A leap of faith. An inexorable task that he needs to survive rather than get done. And today is the only day if he's going to make it. The last day, if he's to complete the mission and escape the capital before the guard is tightened for the festive season. By tomorrow he won't be able to roam around the place at night like he had, since he arrived.

He stares up at the clear sky through the swinging willow branches. The crescent moon seem to cautiously watch him back. It's only three weeks until full moon. The time _is_ running out anyway.

The two soldiers walk past his hiding place, unaware of his presence, proving that Alison's brew is working in masking his body scent for them, yet again. His eyes follow them in the dark. Clad in armour, the silver swords in their belts gleam in as they rub in with plated iron with a soft rattle like bells. They wane off along the path, and the sound with them.

The soldiers patrolled the gardens every two turns of his sand clock, which is barely enough for him to make it to the other end, where he could hide behind the hedges and bushes without being spotted. Then he would have to wait for them to disappear again before making his way up along the vines and stone walls in the shade of the trees. And if anyone doesn't look out from the castle windows far across, he would be able to reach the top without a scene and land on the rampart to the balcony without alerting a soul. Least of all the estranged_ Alpha prince_, who would be out there with his maid by now. It seem to be the prince's habit before bed... He had watched him for days, studying his routines, patterns as much as he could from distance. And this is the only possible chance that he would get to place himself closer to the treacherous little thing.

It was strange seeing him after all these years, the prince - to see him grown, even from a distance. The last time he saw him, the prince had only been something of a ten - a child, a cub at his mother's breast. No matter why or how, it is hard to imagine that same beautiful boy turned out to be this sordid creature who betrayed his own kin.

Looking up at the balcony, he notices the lights - confirming that they are there. He breathes a soundless breath. _This is going to work. he is going to make it work._ He assures himself

Afar, he watches the two soldiers disappear from the edge finally. In the next moment, his motionless body up until now, jumps to action like a strike of light between clouds. There is less to no sound, astonishing speed and agility in the way he crosses the trees, fountains and monuments to the edge of the garden. Arriving right on calculated time, he hides between a stack of bushes and the high stone walls, completely freezing his body of any movement. And he waits, again.

The two soldiers doesn't take long to come back to his sight, strolling down in the same lazy phase as before. Everything seems still other than them two, unless the occasional sizzle of wind that moves the willows. He prays to his ancestors that it will remain the same until the edge of the day. Let him fulfil this one task so his people can restore their dignity back to what it was since decades. Let him have courage to lead them back to the justice and glory that it once was. 

Memory of the late Prime, the queen Annilia haunts his mind with flashes of the child prince, again. He shivers... engulfed by the gravity of next coming hour. His heart aches in habit - bringing his nature to yield to the Alpha Prime. But the nature's draw is weak to defend an un-throned, unproven Prime against another Alpha. And he knew it was his chance to overrule the binding their nature had stored upon him.

Absentmindedly he reaches his belt, checking on the two daggers clasped to it. His gloved fingers ghost over the leather sheath they are in. His forefathers will understand why he has to do this, even if they would never forgive him. For the greater good of his people, he would bear their curse like a crown made of thorns, even wear it proudly. He thinks.

Time seem to lapse painfully slow as he watches the two undead disappearing into the again. His agitation catches up, making his nerves shake, yet he pushes his body to stillness for a second longer - controlling his heartbeat to go down. And then, he gets to work again.

With swift moves, he starts climbing up the high wall quietly as he could. The stone is hard and it hadn't rained in days, giving him lesser chance to slip a step. His hardened limbs carries him skyward as he grips the hinges steadily, surely. He doesn't look up - nor down, only focusing on his race with the time. If anyone random spotted him climbing the high chamber, and alerted the soldiers to shoot an arrow to struck him down - so be it. Because there's nothing he could do if that is how it's willed to end. Although, that does not come to pass by the grace of his prayers.

He reaches to the top and hauls himself up, landing his feet on the rampart as quiet as he could with a breath of relief. Not wasting a second more, he starts to crawl along the stony way to the balcony ducked under the wall. Everything feels eerily still and static, which he should be glad about. He hides behind a line of white stone figurines on the edge, sensing the presence of the two he expected afar. The breeze is calm as same as the ground beneath him, minus the soft string music that comes from the opposite end to him overlapping voices. He stills for half a moment, paying attention to everything around, to be sure if he alerted anyone. But nothing comes, other than the slow conversation.

_"... until I'm at fault. I have no defense left, Glintal." The tone is weary, but deep. And low as if intentionally weighted down._

_"Patience, love. Let it pass. It's just matter for the future. Both Lord Horan and Lord Rowland would be there if needed. Focus on the tune. Let it calm you."_

_"Easy for you to say..." the deeper voice complains. "I'll have to put up with it."_

Voices go silent and the soft tune continues play soothing the night's air.

He peeks out behind a life size statuette for a glimpse of the prince, and his maid. It doesn't take long for him to see them. The lean, tall figure in loose, white, night clothing is unmistakably the prince himself. He could recognize the Alpha even with his back turned to him... he could sense his presence in his bones. As his head start to raise, he takes cover again - hiding in the dark for a moment before he watches them again.

The prince held something to his breast, lolling around to the soft rhythm floating around as his maid knitted. He tries to make sense of pattern to the prince's footing, yet unlike the weeping willows in the garden, the stone sculptures does not let his sight go through for all of the movement. He needed to get closer for it - he knew.

Reaching for his belt for the second time in the hour, he unclips the sheath with the daggers with zero to no sound. Calming his mind effortfully, he grips at the coolness of the metal hilts. There was no time left for thoughts or hesitations. Despite his body's reluctance, he works his legs; moving forward with the lightest steps he could manage - staying under the covers of the stone statues all the while. He doesn't stop until the melodic string tune gets loud enough in his ear. Finally settling down under a sculpture of a bird like creature with four legs and wings, he takes a peek at the two who seem to be completely unaware of the intrusion.

The prince is playing a harp, his back turned towards him. He was no child anymore for sure. He's grown tall as the likes of his kin yet skinnier for a usual build of an Alpha. His hair is long, passing his shoulders, in contrast to the shorter curly hair as a youngster. Hiding in the dark, he watches him play, his long fingers running through strings effortlessly... emitting the very sound that had been filling the air. He seem good at it. But the last thing the Prince should be doing in this cursed realm is trying his skills at music. He's enjoying the luxury and comforts among the malistic Vampires while the rest of his own kind are being slaughtered, enslaved and forced to damnation by his providers. Anger flares his thoughts like hay on fire. Patience... he reminds himself. His anger will be useful only if pointed at the right direction at the right time, which is not further away.

Blinking away the agitation, he waits.

The maid, who is sat on the stony seat and knitting with eyes on the prince, is clearly a beta, he could tell by the scent. And clearly no threat or a match for him... although he doesn't doubt her devotion to the prince. Checking the surroundings, he could see no one else. No soldiers or guards protecting him, doubting no threats. The rampart he came through is empty to the far end. If someone is to enter to the balcony immediately, it would be through the doors of prince's chambers - and the doors are shut.

Carefully he drags the daggers out of the sheath with gloved hand. The blades are wrapped with damp cloths, hiding their poisoned blades. The smell on them hits him... the most hated smell for any Lycan, Alpha, Omega or Beta. He takes a short breath before unwrapping the material - revealing the spiked silver blades.

There is even less time to spare now... because looking up, he sees the prince turning towards his direction already, still playing the instrument at hand. It is just a matter of time that the only other Alpha around would catch the unmissable scent. The prince - the Alpha prime - surely could smell wolfbane this close. And he knew that it won't take long until he's spotted.

Attention clearly fiddled, the melody misses strings as the prince takes slow steps towards the statue-ed corner where he was - and for the first time he sees him up close.

Sculptured features, poised noise and bronze curled locks that framed his face like a mane - the beautiful child he had known long back had grown to be a handsome youth as he had ought to. Reflexion of the late queen in his features are unmistakable. But among all of it, it is his eyes that competes with everything else. The green eyes inherited by his kind- but there is something daunting about them. Something dark and strange.

And now they looked curious, focused and perhaps alarmed.

"Master Harold, what are you doing?" the beta maid nags from behind as the prince strolls towards the corner.

There is no time to hesitate, or think - a momentary miss would blow everything at hand. His heart was beating and his natural instincts all fighting to pledge his loyalty, fealty to the one true Alpha Prime. The lost prince. Yet he knew it is nothing but hollow instinct he needed to overcome for the sake of his kind. He needed to act - now.

"Master Harold.." the maid calls again.

Pulling a one last string that echoes in the air, the prince takes a step forward towards the dark. A one more step, and he'll spot him. This _is_ the last call. Last chance... for his people. To change everything that his people is going through while the prince wines and dines in luxury with the enemy's riches. It is what he deserves for selling his people's fate to calamity. Ignorant apostate who paved the downfall of his own kind.

Without space for any other thoughts, he pushes himself up, already taking aim, clutching the dagger tight while ignoring the sudden, desperate pang in his own heart. He watches the instant as the prince's green eyes widen in shock … astonishment, even perhaps a recognition, as he gains force. Then the next moment, he throws one of the daggers in a one straight move with the speed of light straight ahead.

The dagger hits the prince right in the gut, and his whole body staggers back.

The green eyes look down at his red oozing self in a haze, and then at the one in front of him with a shock of disbelief. They were pain soaked and dark. The maid's scream erupts in the air like a howl of pain, but he steadies himself again - taking aim. The prince's face is frozen in front of him. But he doesn't hesitate this time. With a speed matching the previous throw, he sends the second dagger towards the wounded Alpha prince in a merciless determination.

It hits the prince a little left to the first, knocking him down to his knees, still clutching the harp in his hand with a white knuckled grip.

He could have sworn that there was something other than the shock and pain in the green eyes at that moment - a hint of a relief almost - but it is only for an instance, because the pain seem to consume his fine features. Wolfbane, poison is already working. His own heart and head feels like a wreckage. The Alpha Prime falls face first to the ground, the harp dropped beside him.

He should have left then - leaving the estrange prince laying on the floor bleeding to death, while his maid howled at his feet. But there is one other thing he needed.

Dragging out a long dagger from his back, he steps towards the blood oozing body. Before he reaches the Prince though, the maid springs herself at him screaming out of her lungs.

"No! What have you done!! What have you done you lunatic??!!"

Her cry rings in an uttermost distress, desperate to still protect her Prince. But a Beta is a no match to an Alpha's strength. It just takes a kick from him to get rid of her madness and blind loyalty to the fallen Prince. He must have broken her ribs, because she fails to get up to fight him - continuing to scream with scraping anguish. It was everything to do with the nature of his kind, nothing else, he knew as reached back to get what he needed, amid the screams.

The white cotton shirt the Prince had on is already soaked in thick red, and his skin already seem to pale. He was still alive, fidgeting in pain.

Not waiting for second thoughts he bends down, taking locks of a fist full of hair from the fallen Prince's head with shaking hands. Prince recoils at the contact, yet no fight comes. He easily cuts the fistful off in a haste, letting the head thud back to the ground. His heart hammers inside as his vision comes blurry and moist.

He takes one last look at the rightful Alpha Prime who betrayed them all, laying on the floor about to spend his last breath. Sadness erupts from his heart, and an agitation rakes like knives on skin. Instead of pledging fealty, he had sent the prince to his death. He would have no peace, no forgiveness from his ancestors. He will be forever cursed and damned by betrayal.

Heart heavy with the sound of the Prince's dragging last breaths, he turns away then, with every intention to head to the rampart and crawl down to disappear into nothing. His mission accomplished.

Yet, in the distraction of own emotions, what he does not notice is the tall figure that steps into the balcony from prince's chambers - a soldier clad in black and an armour in silver with the crest of a hilted dagger. It is only as he reaches the wall to get himself off the tower he hears it - the knives speeding towards him like a hawk at its prey.

But by then, it is a moment too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a bit vague, but I hope it's clear what happened... The next chapter will be up tomorrow!


	2. The Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the official first chapter as I promised.

On a peculiar alleyway avoided by the decent folk of the town, _a lone rider _strolls down under the dim torches.

Clad entirely in black, with a hood covering his face, he seem to be in no hurry to get to his stop, no matter the awful weather. It had been one of the cold, gloomy days, and the dark was already creeping down. But with its stretch of painted buildings and happy drunk crowds, this particular alleyway looks livelier in contrast to the rest of the town the rider had ridden past.

The colourful buildings on either side were thronging with heads, live chattering and clattering drawing out of their vividly open doors; while sweaty, jewel clad bodies swayed to slow tunes inside them, blowing erotic dusts to the road. The street is full of bickering traders with various goods, including items that would be considered obscene other than in pleasure houses - bargaining with shameless shoppers who fought to pay a penny less to the carnal objects. Many strolled along, laughing and drinking away the night in euphoria while street-walkers threaded freely, flaunting sensual ways in their lurid but thin layers to woo punters looking for services.

Galloping forth on the cobbled path, the black rider looks unfazed by the mayhem of the street. He rides steady, with a one hand rested on the dark leather saddle casually. There is an elegance in the way he leads the black stallion, as unaffected by the excitement around, which makes him stand out in the chaos. The rider sticks to a lethargic phase, making it hard to guess which establishment he is heading to. The caretakers of the colourful houses eyes him hopefully as he passes them, but it is doubtful if he noticed any of them.

He rides until the very end of the street, entering into the premises of the last in the stretch finally. _Aspasia_, the red painted establishment with an ornate garden and fountain figurines. The horse comes to a smooth halt and the rider gets down gracefully, as its caretaker approaches him. The rider is rather tall, he notices - but otherwise completely hidden under his long coat and boots, apart from the tips of his fingers and face below his nose.

"Overnight my lord?" the caretaker asks, guessing that it's a noble. The breed of horse says that much, if not for the very manner he moves.

"I doubt it." the rider says without looking back, dragging his hood further up - as if he did not want to be seen in a place like this. When he does, his sleeve moves up and the caretaker's eye finds a glimpse of a golden ring with a shape of a dagger with a ruby etched into it.

Whatever the words that come to his lips, the caretaker swallows them as the hooded stranger heads towards the door without any other exchange.

"I'll be damned" the caretaker mumbles.

Not that he had any knowledge about nobles and their crests, but that one is a hard one to miss. Wait till Bashkar hears about this, he thinks. Bashkar the trader always brags about seeing the rich and nobles at their whims in the pleasure houses at Damask, the heavenly city up north. But a Dagger in humble Aspasia would top anything he would have to say, the caretaker thinks. 

He watches the figure until he disappears behind the red walls with astounding thoughts, and leads the black stallion to the stables with extra care.

Unbothered by the caretakers reaction seemingly, the hooded rider walks in through golden double doors. The house is packed... of males and females alike. The air inside is warm and thick with a particular metallic fume. Heavy red drapes hanging around the walls had gold threaded designs while the chandeliers glistened in a gaudy gold colour as if they had been recently polished. Waiters and waitresses in their colourful garments combed the crowds, carrying trays filled with sloshing goblets, while semi naked figues moved to a tingling tune in fenced stages the middle of the floor. But most of the crowd are gathered in two corners where there seem to be a bidding going on. A slave auction... The black rider guesses with just a glimpse - Lycan slaves, he knows by the scent.

Setting his jaw tight, the rider scans around the place searching for someone with a failed attempt to elude the two corners. It takes him a few moments to find the unmistakable lone figure wearing a tassel hat in a table opposite to the bidding corner; watching the scene with un unreadable expression. The middle-aged stranger had a pudgy built that merged his head with his neck, straw brown hair and dull blue eyes - And most noticeably, his skin looked worn and an unpleasant yellow shade.

Not pulling his hood down still, he strides towards his table, avoiding sweeping in on anyone as much as he can. He then drops his riding stick on to the table after knocking it few times on the wood, alerting his presence to the other. They stare at each other for a second solemnly, measuring up each other with distance.

"Thought you've managed to get the seas drained this time when I read the letter. But seems you've only grown too fat for the boat." He eyeing the other one plainly . "Or did your ship drown under the weight, Cordon?"

Corden cocks one of his brows up, staring at the hood just a moment more. "The ship survived my weight fine. But a skinny doll like you wouldn't stand a chance on it with the winds unless you fancy a salty bath in the sea, laddie."

They stare at each other for a moment more, grimly. It is the stout one that breaks the exchange first with a laugh as he gets up to his feet with open arms.

"William Louis of Tomlin." he says with a smile that reaches his eyes. "Glad to see you lad."

Finally dragging down his hood to uncover a head of dark featherly hair, a pale complexion and blue eyes, Louis, closes in, hugging the other tight. "You too James. It's been long."

They have been old friends, James and Louis - travel partners, once upon a time. But the times turned darker, and they followed different paths that put miles between them and their friendship for years. The embrace linger a moment more before breaking apart, and James pats Louis' back as he lets go finally, gesturing him to the only other chair in the table. 

Eyeing noisy, drunken figures with an unpleasantness he doesn't try to hide, Louis drags the chair opposite to James, with his back to the crowd.

"Could have chosen a better place." Louis complains, irritation clear in his face.

"Where's better than a brothel? People mind their own business when they drink to fuck. No one would look twice at an unmated noble lurking about to have a good time. Not to point out that this reminds me when we first met at Damask, when you were buried under the Glusphaco twins and that thick long haired lass. What was her name?" James grins leaning back, trying to get comfortable.

Louis scoffs as James' eyes look past him, setting on the scene behind him.

"They seriously lack the taste and splendor here, but hey, there's a free pass to an auction." James gestures with his chin. "I mean... Lycans. Who knew Hampshion had Lycan slaves?" There's a hint of surprise in James' tone. Louis doesn't bother to look back, he stares at James instead.

Sure, the slave trade is rare in hidebound Hamption - unlike in the capital, but it's not unheard of. Lycan slaves are a different story though, and Louis could see why the excitement is reeking. Known for their submission and attentive ways, Lycan slaves are considered the most exquisite. Yet the glimpse he got of the cowered, terrified souls kneeling semi naked in display barely painted the fantasy. Louis could smell a possible lawless trading under the very rugs he is standing on.

"Little more work and Hampshion won't be far behind the capital. Your uncle's reign seem to thrive everywhere." James says as he waves at a passing waitress with a barely covered bosom. 

Before Louis thinks of a comeback, the waitress struts closer with a tray of golden goblets, red liquids in them sloshing without spilling out. Louis settles for a glare as the fume easily catches both of their nasels. She is tall and slender, though with meat in the right places. The thin dark material of her dress does very little to cover her curves, which she flaunts in front of their eyes. As if she could smell the disapproval off Louis, she approaches James, eyeing him suggestively even ignoring his haggard appearance. When no protest comes, she places herself on his lap, draping her lean body around his - and James doesn't even pretend to flinch. Louis rolls his eyes at the scene.

"How can we be of service to you gentlemen today?" She asks just too close to James's face. Her free hand sweeps over his chest over his tunic. He grins.

"Your finest stock, love. And unblended. I can smell off some from your tray" he says eyeing the golden painted goblets with thick red.

"Ooo, not even wine? That's gonna hit you. Just two weeks old. But it's gonna cost."

"I'll manage." James says with a grin as he slips his hand into his coat pocket and drags out some gold coins. Flashing them in front of her eyes, he takes his hand lower, near her cleavage and drops them between her breasts. She whines, slithering her fingers lower in his front.

James doesn't seem to mind. "Unblended." he repeats, as if to edge her more.

She licks her lips looking at Louis across the table.

"Same for your friend?" her voice sounds breathless.

Crossing his leg over the other and leaning to a side, Louis hits them both with a calm look.

"I'll pass."

She turns to him fully, looking as if it was the strangest thing she'd heard all day. "It's two weeks old I said. The freshest you could find in all of Hampshion - unless you own the farms." She says as James starts wrapping a lock of her hair, playing with it.

"Brilliant." Louis replies morbidly as the waitress stares. "Pass."

James hisses a laugh this time, letting go of her smooth hair lock. "Forgive the unenthusiasm. He's tasteless." he picks one of the gold goblets from her tray, taking a sip right away."But I'll accept your service." he says before drawing the goblet to his lips.

The very way James's fingers tightened around the cup and the way his lips trembles as he does not go unnoticed by Louis. His muscles seem to clench and tighten as he drinks. Louis can see that James is famished regardless the flirting match.

The waitress seem to stare at the way James swallows, with different intentions for sure, as her free hand sweeping his body even lower. But this time James catches her hand - lips red with the thick liquid, he smiles at her - "Come find me later" he says, planting a kiss on her plump lips which she licks.

He then sends her away, not before taking another two of the goblets off her tray.

Two and a half days. That's the maximum time a Vampire could pass without a dose of 'blood'. Sure there are ways to extend the length, but that needed a lot of practice - and Louis doubts if James had any patience for that.

"When did you last have a drink?" he asks, still staring at James.

James doesn't answer, instead he grins, taking another long sip off the goblet. He looks travel-worn and exhausted more than before. Even under his brown tunic and wool jacket, he seemed thinner than before all those years ago. Being on run seem to have gotten a toll on James. Maybe the sea voyages were not the best of luxury. 

The last time Louis saw James, they were in the capital - and James was about to flee for his life while the King's soldiers scouted the roads to arrest him. It was several decades back. The war was brewing between the kingdoms and James, as many nobles in the capital, fell off the favour by supporting the riots against the King's conquests. He had to flee or face the King's troops and prison. It was a dark time for all of them. They have been in touch since, time to time - with James writing to Louis from different corners of the world every time. The very last being from Austin to his utter surprise. Austin is just a day's ride from Hampshin, where Louis had been living since he left the capital with his family.

Putting the empty goblet down James stares measuring him up and down.

"You look well." James states, measuring him up and down. "Well fed. No shortages with the the farm supplies I assume?"

Louis blinks with an irritation. James had always mocked Louis about Tomlin farms in Hampshion through his letters.

"Not that I'm aware of. Jackwind takes care of the farms now." he shrugs

Farms that bred Humans for blood was no longer an alien concept. It had been one of the first changes came with the regime of King Benedict and his council - and the Human farms brought a solution to the Vampire life source. And humans in exchange, were granted life inside the nurture farms. It is as a fair trade as it could get - things could have gotten much worse for the Human race.

Landowners paid taxes by contributing harvest to the supplies. It is the law. Though Tomlin farms had different ways of doing things than most of the farms, James was not impressed with the way Louis dealt with things, pledging loyalty to the dictator King. Tomlins are too attached to their titles, lands and comforts than to the virtue - James had mocked, though he too sipped on blood for life.

"You prefer not sticking your finger in to the honeycomb, you just pay for someone to do it, doesn't change the fact, my friend."

"I'm not in a mood to argue with you." Louis sighs, tapping his index on the table. "You fled and I did what I should, to stay. I've done what I can for my remaining family. Playing the hero's the last thing in my list of to-dos." 

James looks as if he wanted to say something - but instead his pensive eyes turns past Louis, focusing on the meat auction, again. The prices were raising up for the Lycan slaves. They would soon be sold to the highest bidder to be used for the carnal pleasures or otherwise. Lives being passed to immateriality. Louis does pity the poor souls, but he has no intention to pay witness.

He should throttle James for dragging him to this shit pit.

"The King and the anarchy treats Humans expendable. But what would happen if they are to go extinct like the Warlocks."James says after a while as if distracted by the scene.

Louis stares at him. Subject of Humans is nothing but a rabbit hole. Vampires are mere consumers, born to the nature of blood. Ideally, Humans are nothing but rightful providers. Doesn't Humans prey on animals? Is a tiger hunting down a deer any different to a Vampire feeding on a Human? How is that wrong in any way?

"Nobody would have gone extinct if their will to live was higher than their pride. Wise as they were, Warlocks failed at the one thing any Human was ever capable of." Louis says wearily, his eyes on James. "Survival."

James smiles without betraying an expression. But the look in his eye doesn't settle with Louis when he stares back at him without a word. It was not as if any other race had found means to live without surrendering - the same as there was no way Vampires would survive without consuming blood. James smacks his lips and ironically reaches the last of his goblets and Louis smirks. For once, he lets it go without a word - point already proven.

"Heard you are invited to the celebration at Germia this time." he says without taking his eyes off Louis' face nor blinking.

Louis blinks dumbly with the rabid change of subject, that's before the question sinks in. _What? _

"The Kings' celebration ball for the victory anniversary at the capital. You've got an invitation. Did you not?"

"We do every year." Louis manages to say. "Family." he lifts his fist holding up his ring as if James had forgotten. "Not that we've ever considered going." 

"The King invited you. Not all of Tomlins. Exclusively you this time."

Louis stares. No one but him knew about the invitation, and now it is lying under a pile of his discarded books. How did James find out?

"Apparently one of my paintings caught the King's eye at Bristiale courthouse. He seem to suddenly remember that he has family in Hampshion, and thought it's a good idea to send me a direct invitation to celebrate some win and a bloodbath."

"You sure that's all this is all about?" James asks.

"What else should it be about. I'm hardly in a political stand or a place at his court. And don't worry, I have no intention to set foot in Germia again."

"You are planning to ignore a direct invitation by your uncle, the King?"

Louis raises a brow looking at him. What is James coming at? "Should I even answer?" Louis hisses after looking around. 

James shoots a calculating glance at Louis and Louis could feel that he's just trying to whisk at something else. What then... does James want him to go to the bloody ball? To Germia? To face the King? That's absurd.

"My father scarified his life for their regime, but the King chose to look away when my sister needed saving. There's nothing that would make me set foot in the capital again."

James stares at him unblinking. "You lost Félicité to the crossfire between a dictator and people who chose to fight against him. Would you rather look away than see things changed so the same history won't repeat again?"

"Félicité can be alive somewhere as same as you and me for all I know! And what does it have to do with if I go to the bloody thing or not? A ludicrous ball or I don't matter in the grand scheme of things, James."

James glares. "Do you not? You have a claim to the throne next than any puppet the King parades around."

Louis nearly sneers. "Why are you here James?" he asks point blank. It is a useless path to thread. Even James knew that. 

James hesitates for a moment. But then he reaches his coat pocket and drags something out. Something small and wrapped in a dirty old cloth. leaning towards, James keeps it on the table, pushing it further to Louis.

"What is it?"

When James just stares at him expectantly, Louis reaches for it, unwrapping it to see a white stoned, silver ring gleaming at him. His widened eyes shoots at James' unfazed, unblinking face like fire. Louis would recognise it anywhere... anytime. It was Félicité, his sisters'. Her _blood ring_.

"How... where did you-?" He fails to find words, looking between the ring and James' guilt wrapped face.

"It was given to me... to pass it to you when I was first sailing out of Emorous."

"What...when you first left?" Louis grips the table, furious. "That's almost fifty years ago! What the fuck did you do with it this long? " James had been writing to him for years! Hell! they've wasted almost an hour here - All this time he had this with him?

"I couldn't risk writing about it. It was dangerous. Last thing I wanted was to get it to wrong hands and risk your neck for no reason." James emplains.

"Risk my - ... how did you find it? who gave this to you?"

"Someone named Klaus. _Klaus Hugarstarlin_. I believe he was a friend of Félicité at the Academy. I met him briefly at the port of Barnebree He knew you and I are acquainted. He wanted me to pass it to the family."

His breathing still rising, Louis looks back at the gleaming white object. The name is probably familiar. Félicité had mentioned Klaus to him through her many letters from the Academia at Angara, when she wrote to him before any of it came to pass. Before the fires that destroyed half of the Academia in Angara, disappearing many - including Félicité. But if this Klaus survived the fires, he must know something about what happened.

"Did he say anything else? Anything at all about how and why he had it?" Louis felt light headed... after all his attempts to find a scrap of what happened, this had been with James all this time. 

James eyes around slowly and leans forward slightly. His expression is hesitant again, and careful. "Sorry, Louis" he says shaking his head as Louis bites his lip hiding his disappointment, "It was a brief exchange. He gave me the package and left even before I opened it. When I realized what it is, he was already gone. Maybe he was on the run as same as I was... or maybe he didn't want to draw attention."

"There must be something more... there must be a way to find him." Louis didn't try to hide the desperation in his voice. If there is any way he could find peace for his family, he would take it.

Reaching for his goblet, James leans back in his chair. Louis could smell his nervousness. 

"There is. There is a person's are willing to give you his whereabouts, as a return favour." Avoiding Louis' gaze, James takes a light sip from the cup... and circles his finger around the rim. Whatever he had in his mind couldn't be good.

"Who?"

James taps the tip of his finger at the wooden table, still unsure. But then he looks at Louis, and outs with it. "A descendant of Larcoster, Liam James de Payne" he whispers.

Louis stares. The name rings a bell somewhere. 

"Larcoster? As in-"

"The line of Kings in Agima, yes. The last of the Human Kings."

"I don't want anything to do with the Resistance." Louis hisses, unbelievingly. "Warmongering rebels following a deranged Warlock is bad news even after decades, James."

He may not agree with his uncle, the King or his council but the last thing Louis would do is to mingle with rebels, unlike James. This is a dangerous path to thread, even in a brothel. He knew James might have had ties with Resistance... many who fled King Benedict's rule, did. It was the only guaranteed safe passage out of Emorous at the time. Louis had no idea if James is in contact with them or not. But the mention of a Human leader - a Larcoster... it is would fair to speculate that he did..

"No one's asking you to." James says taking his empty cup to the hand again. He seems to be using words carefully. "Germia believes that the Resistant is dead after Malakai anyway."

Malakai, the high Warlock was the leader of the rebels at their peak. Ruthless and merciless towards the Vampire monarchy, Malakai regarded anyone who did not stand by the Resistance his enemy... massacring thousands in his attempts to bring down the Vampire King - only to fall with an inside coup among the ranks of the resistance itself. 

"Malakai or not or not, Resistance is the other side of the same coin... with less tact perhaps. Their ability for beheading innocents and setting villages up in fires is astounding as far as I recall."

"They are in a different path... fairer path. Lord Payne is-"

"I thought you said there is no Resistance."

"Lord Payne is different," James blabbers out, "If you grant him this favour, he'll pay you back. He'll help you find her - if you give him audience."

Louis stares at James without a word. This is absurd. He wanted to flip out, but he couldn't. And James knew Louis couldn't. After years and years of failed attempts to find Félicité , this is the only lead Louis had gotten of his sister since years. The ring... and a past acquaintance was hard to ignore when it came from someone like James. Perhaps this Klaus took protection from the rebels to escape like many others did at the time. Louis trusted James, trusted his family with him - James wouldn't endanger Louis' family for gain. Right?

"Is there a reason why that you want me to go meet this Larcoster when you could find out where this Klaus or whoever he is, just as easily?"

That makes James look at him. "It's complicated." he says unapologetically. "I know you are unwilling to do this, but you won't regret it once you meet him. I'll assure you that there won't be any consequences to whatever you choose to do after meeting them."

"Them? I thought I was meeting one person. I fucking told you I won't want anything to do with the Resistance." Louis hisses angrily.

"You do what you have to for your family, Louis. You've done that all this time. Don't tell me you chose to follow the King because you are loyal to his regime. You play under the King's rule, you pay him your taxes, so you are safe. If you want to know about Félicité, this is the only way I can point you to."

"What if anyone finds out? The last thing I want is to be accused of aiding rebels."

"That's not going to happen. They'll make sure of that." James assures as if his word is enough to make Louis believe. "Besides, as I told, Germia thinks the Resistance is dead. There's no such thing. Is there now?" James says, his tone light suddenly. 

It was as if they have been discussing about the weather all this time. He watches as James combs around the crowd with his eyes. As he spots the waitress from before, James gestures her to come over while Louis glares at him.

"You are riding by carriage, yes? Pay a visit to a tavern at the border at Danbar tomorrow afternoon. You'll reach there if you leaver after lunch... and keep it to yourself." James spares Louis' glaring face a glance. "Taking that invitation with the King's seal might help you when crossing the borders." he adds. 

Louis blinks blankly, trying to make meaning for any of it while watching the red haired woman stroll towards James swinging her hips. He couldn't help but glare as James wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. Louis knew this was his que to leave - unless he wanted to witness James at his usual sport. He gets up almost kicking his chair and walks towards the door, only pausing at James' drowning murmur.

"You owe her this, Louis."

......................

"Can't you wait till few days, Louis? The weather is not ideal for travelling." Lady Johanna complains, sipping at her fruity dessert wine in the dining hall of Tomlin household.

It is still mid day, and Louis had mentioned the plans to ride to Devron for lab supplies in the morning to his mother and she had been hinting her disapproval since then. Louis cuts a piece of the warm cranberry pie without a word but next to him Charlotte rolls eyes getting up from the table. The younger twins had already disappeared off to their rooms after digging into deserts so it was only three of them in the lengthy dinner table.

"Come off it, mother. Louis' going to just bugger off the next time without telling you if you do that every time he tells you that he's going to ride out. You are being an old lady nag." Charlotte leaps for a last strawberry over Louis' shoulder, dipping it in the cream before she twirls out of the door with a hum- leaving the mother and son on the table.

"I'm not being a nag. It's just bad weather." Johanna says as a matter of fact. Her children are everything to her - no matter Louis is less of a child, and a capable grownup, she worries, being the mother.

"I'll be taking the carriage. And I'm planning an overnight's stay so you don't have to worry." Louis reasons, skipping the remains of the pie on his plate. He starts folding his napkin carefully out of habit. If Johanna really knew about his intentions, she would cage him underground in the dungeons, he is sure of it.

"Overnight? But it's only a few hours ride." She protests.

"Give him a breather, mama." Charlotte shouts from the other room but Joanna ignores her.

Louis exhales. "I need to refill my herb kits as well. Best comes out in the morning market. I'll be taking Ellish and Toby, I'll be fine mother." He sounded convincing enough but Johanna doesn't look happy, he could tell. Their mother gets concerned when any of them set foot out of Hampshion. It was nothing new. He couldn't blame her - not after Félicité.

"There's outlaws on the roads, Louis. It's the winter." She takes another sip slowly. "At least take Charlotte with you... then there's two of you." She ignores Charlotte's sharp 'mother! Don't you dare.' from the other side

Louis huffs. Clearly she had discussed this with Charlotte before. "That would be insane. Charlotte will murder me before we reach the border for sure if I asked her to spend a night in an inn, come on mother. I can look after myself. You know that."

The last thing Louis would need is any of his family joining in. Besides, Louis had enough skill with the sword. His mother is beating around the bush for something else, he could tell.

"What's the deal? Spill it out, Mother."

Joanna takes another sip with eyes on her son. "No deal... It was late when you came last night. Did you have a good time?"

"Good time?" He repeats.

"You were at Shrewsbury ally, were you not?" She says carefully, looking around as if to make sure the girls can't hear, as Louis stares back blankly. "I mean it's fine. I know you are by yourself and you - you have your needs umm..."

"... What? Gosh Mother! It wasn't like that!!" Louis presses his head on his palm. "Who told you?"

"It's fine. Sometimes the dubious is tempting. I don't care what you do or who you lay with. But it's not the most reputed place you know... I can make arrangements for you or you can arrange a trip to Damask for couple of days. Shrewsbury's a bit shady of a place don't you think?"

Louis looks at her with wide eyes. "What are you on about? I didn't lay with anyone there. I was meeting someone. Oh ... not for that. I was meeting an old friend...umm. A friend." Louis refrains from telling who but turns a question back sceptically. " Who told you this?"

"Bhaskar. He was there last night and saw you."

"Bhaskar? the trader? What was he doing gossiping with you?"

Joanna looks sheepish. "Come on. He just told me what he saw. It wasn't gossip. I was buying some silks from him. He's off to capital for the festive season. Had some good old thread works he's taking there."

"He's an old fibber. Why would you need to buy from him when Gaffer brings all the newest stuff from Damask? "

"Mother wants in on gossip before the weekly Saturday luncheon with Lady Catharine of the Bay!" Charlotte says peeping in out of nowhere. Louis gets the feeling she had been listening to them just outside for all this time and smirks. "Whenever Bhaskar steps in to Hampshion, he brings the best of gossip from around for them to talk about for months. Didn't you know?"

"Mind your own business young lady. What have I told you about eavesdropping? I was having a conversation with your brother."

"Wasn't eavesdropping."

"Oh you so were..."

"Wasn't"

Louis huffs shaking his head. These two would bicker until sunset.

"Well, I have to go or I won't reach the inn before it's dark." He says getting up. His mother still looks unconvinced. Louis feels bad lying outright, but the last thing he could tell was the truth. If there's anything he could gain from the visit, he will tell mother about it. But otherwise, what's the use?

Bending down, he places a fond kiss on his mother's head. She smells sweet lavender as usual.

"Behave you two. I'll be back by tomorrow. Anything you want me to get from Devron, Lotts?"

"Ribbons. Woven silk in purple. I'm redecorating the east wing. Can you find them?"

"I know purple. Ribbons it is then. For you, mother?"

"Get yourself back soon?" She looks up at him in her seat.

Charlotte snorts. "Typical, mother. He's going to run away from your grabby paws one day I'm sure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope it made more sense. There are so many characters that's going to come in the next chapter, unlike this one where there's only few. The next update will be in next week as I'm going away for the weekend. Thanks for taking time to read this. Love!!!
> 
> Hope everyone's enjoying the Gucci Mémoire campaign.


	3. The Resistance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis meets the rebels. And an aftermath of an assassination attempt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I mentioned last time that this chapter will be posted in the beginning of the week and it's the end of the week. Sorry for the lack of writer's ethic but in my defence, this is the hardest chapter I've written in my entire life. Because there's so much details and several new characters in it, I had to be really careful try and not to confuse the readers or overwhelm with too many things ( hope I didn't). There's bit of history laid in this chapter to connect some dots... Compared to previous chapter, this is rather long. And I have to mention the end get a bit intense. hopefully not too much.  
Lastly, this is a complete AU. None of the characters are real. I'm just borrowing them to suite the story.

It had been a while since Louis last crossed the Hampshion borders, and the ride to Danbar was a far less pleasant with the overloud sounds of wheels rolling. When they finally pulled the carriage over to the inn James mentioned, it had started raining. And Louis hates travelling in rain.

It is an old, worn out place. Ellish, one of his valets gives the place a sceptical look, and Louis couldn't blame him. It looks absolute garbage. Louis waits outside as his valets goes to check, and possibly book a room for the night for him. Looking around the mass of circling trees, Louis wonders if anyone even knew he's here. It seemed like a lounging place for the commoners. It is the only stop between Hampshion and Austin. It is doubtful if any noble had ever set foot here. Would it look suspicious if anyone sees him here? He should have expected this when deciding to meet with these wild rebels. They might have had several with noble ancestors in the past, but now these are nothing but a set of lawless conspirators and bandits.

His valets return soon to inform him that a room has already been paid for his stay. Not knowing what to think of it, Louis follows Ellish inside.

The inn looks old, dusty and dirty - hardly maintained. No one seemed to have set foot there in days, unless the old bar keeper, who replies with a blank stare as Louis greets him - unbothered for pleasantries. After a silent, quick and unnecessary supper, Louis goes to his accommodated room. It is much cleaner than the rest of the inn. He refrains from going to the bed though, placing himself on the only armchair which looks comfortable enough for him to accommodate for a non-sleep.

It is already dark outside, he notices looking out of the window. Louis feels worn out and the ride back tomorrow would wear him down. He didn't want to explain to his mother why he is all haggard up after a comfortable night's stay at Stomer's inn at Devron. He needed to take some rest. But his mind didn't let him have any peace, playing hundred thoughts in a minute... of Felicity, the day they got the news about the tragedy in Academia.**..**

He remembers riding hours and days with James with hopes that she would be safe somehow, then to find no trace of her. Their family is everything to them, as same for all of their kind. There was no end to the despair his remaining family went through with her disappearance. Especially their mother. All the attempts he took to find her caused nothing but disappointment and loose ends. Every time he thought he had any clue on anything, it was just to get his mother's hopes up and fail again... and again, binging on nothing but hopelessness and pain. This might end just the same. And he would spare his mother the pain and keep it to himself.

Closing his eyes he tries to shut it off, terribly failing at it.

In a way, he couldn't believe he agreed to this - this treasonous trail. He knew his valets are loyal to him, but this is not a matter of simple law breaking... He's meet up with the bloody _ Resistance, or what's left of it _. He could lose his head for this. But he's so far away from the King and his capital, that it is doubtful that anyone would even actually know anything happening in these borders. On the other hand, if this is just another rat's tail he's tracing, so be it. He would rather bear the heartache of failure than regret.

Louis must have fallen asleep with the steady sound of rain outside, because the next time he opens his eyes, the sound had gone thin.

Perhaps it’s instinct that wakes him up, because when his vision clears, he is staring at Toby, the younger valet of the two, Toby. Toby bows at him unsurely, as if he had done something wrong. How long had he been standing there? Louis sweeps his face off his palm, straightening up from the chair. He couldn't stop yawning even if he tried. He had always been a bitter raiser.

"Is everything alright, lad?"

"Yes my Lord..., I'm sorry to wake you up, sir - but there's someone who claims you are expecting him. A - a rider."

It's clearly dark outside. "What time is it?"

"Twenty past ten, sir." the boy sounds apologetic. "Shall I ask him to be on his way?"

Forcing his feet up, Louis reaches for his outer robe. He could feel his own tension and reluctance. Toby must have felt it too. "No, I'll meet him. Did he give a name?"

"No, my Lord. He seemed hasty. He's in the hall downstairs. Do you wish to come down?"

Louis thinks. The inn is empty, but what are the chances of secrecy in the hall? Anyone can eavesdrop, especially in the dark. "Bring him up here. Give me a moment to dress" 

The boy nodded, and disappears, closing the door behind him.

Pulling his robe over his tunic, Louis waits. He knows that he hadn't really thought this through. Would his valets suspect who he'd be meeting in this absurd place? Or would they simply assume he's meeting a commoner. Royal lineage or not, the man is a rebel. An exile. And most alarmingly, _ a Human _. Toby seemed concerned, but not bothered - meaning valet didn't notice he’s a Human. 

The Larcoster is probably dressed in hard layers…hiding his skin and veins. Louis hopes he is, because he hadn’t been in direct contact with Humans in ages, despite owning the farms - and he didn’t know how he would react to the presence. There are ways to cover the scent from Vampire scenes, tactics even the rebels used. Herbs, potions to slow down the heartbeat and several specific materials of clothing in layers to cover up the emanating body heat and the scent of flesh. Humans could blend in if they're careful enough... hell even Lycans used to do that in severe ways than Humans. And for the sake of his own life, Louis hopes this Larcoster prince is good enough at hiding it.

The wooden door creaks and opens slowly... and in walks Toby - the straw haired young lad. And whoever he was expecting, it is not the one who follows him in. Covered in a drenched cloak with a hood and dressed in heavy travel boots, the one who steps is hardly a Human, let along a Larcoster - despite Louis' expectations.

He's a Vampire.

But then, why did he think any heir of Lacoster would casually ride into this blasted inn? Eyeing him up, Louis tries to measure up the stranger.

He is tall and lean, with a shortly trimmed beard. Eyes, a lighter shade of blue, almost grey... the way he holds himself is typically authoritative - almost challenging. And at a glance Louis could see he is a nobleman, or had been one - despite his travel worn clothes. And he had the posture of a skilled swordsman. The look he gives Louis is calculating and unsurely - as if he would hail up a sword in a hint of danger. Louis doesn’t doubt he had a one hidden inside his robes.

Stepping forward, he pulls back his hood to reveal his short dark hair. A nobleman with a messy short hair - interesting.

"Apologies for waking you up at this hour Lord William. My name is Sebastian Bash. I'm here by request... of Lord Corden, to escort you to the counsel."

And Louis knows he had guessed right - the mere superiority of his tone was unmistakable. It was curious for him to see a Vampire noble amongst the rugged Resistance who he knew to be a collective of commoners, escaped rebels and outcasts. Simply put - Humans and low level Vampires.

"I thought I would be meeting him here. I wasn’t mentioned of a detour."

The Vampire, Sebastian stares. Glares in the right sense. But whatever that came to his mind to say, he seems to change it. He looks to his left at Tony and back at Louis. Not that Louis couldn't wield a sword, but this Sebastian clearly had recent practice, unlike Louis.

"That's not possible lord Tomlin. And we don't have much time."

He sounds calm, but strained. His unemotional face warns Louis not to push. Louis hardly had a choice. What had James gotten him in to?

Again, he should have expected this. Klaus or no Klaus - These are out-laws and dangerous rebels. Extremists who want to throw off a regime. What is he going to do with that? And What are they going to do with him? Louis looks at Toby, who clearly looks concerned. Louis knew he had to play it right if he had any intention to go back alive.

"Fine." Louis tells him. "On condition that I have to be back here before tomorrow night. And If I'm not back, my steward will send word to the King that I was delayed on the way to the Celebration Ball."

The words come out of his mouth out of nowhere.

The rebel, Sebastian's glare intensifies just like that with the mention of the King. Well, no, Louis is not going to the charade of a Ball. But isn't it convenient that the damn thing is just four days away? If it ensures his safety one way or another, why not use it for his safety. He had no reason really to hide his displeasure for the rebellion. It is them who chased him, asked him to meet them - not the other way round.

"Done" Sebastian says to Louis' steady gaze.

When he follows him outside, Sebastian points him towards two horses. 

"He knows the way" Sebastian tells Louis as if he trusted the horse better than him. And Louis felt that it is going to be the extent of their conversation...

Louis gets on the horse following Sebastian while Toby and Ellis watched, unsure of decision to go alone. Sure, Toby would follow what Louis said, but there is no way they would guess that the Vampire they saw is a rebel. Because the common image of what the rebels are is such a contrast to what Sebastian was. Resistance could have sent any Vampire to him but instead they've sent a noble. Seem they really want Louis to come. 

They ride through the forest, dark and damp - silent. Has the Larcoster prince set camp here in Danbar? Because as a fact, Louis knew main Resistance base or what's left of it is not anywhere near the reach of the capital and the King. The remaining Resistance after Malakai the dark had said to be fallen back to southern territories of Greenwoods - deep in the forest. It is unlikely that they set camp here just to meet Louis, this close to Germia.

Sebastian doesn't bother with any words as he guessed. Louis could smell mistrust off him. Not that it surprises him - he's a blood relative to the King if nothing else, they are bound to hate him. And mentioning the Ball in Germia earlier probably didn’t help. 

The journey is surprisingly shorter than Louis expects.

They ride into the trees and take turns in haste. The dark and the rain is cramming his instincts and memory, but he is hardly a week Human to be affected by any of it. He knew the way back though it might have taken a little more time. In the end, 

"We are here." Sebastian says as they arrive at an open sky in the middle of the forest, and the rain seem to tap on the tents that are set up in total darkness. It seemed odd to find this camp in the middle of nowhere.

Jumping off the horse, Sebastian doesn't bother to tie it up, as if sure it won’t stray off. He walks towards the pavilion tent in the front without glancing back while Louis remains on the horse - as if he's sure Louis would follow him. He punches the drenched tent with his fist and just goes in, leaving Louis there. There is light in the inside of the tent, Louis could see. But it goes out as soon as the flap closes behind Sebastian, leaving everything in the dark again.

Everything around is damp, soggy and heavy scented. There is something floating in the air spiking his senses. Something thick, strong and unwelcoming. A mix of everything probably. He looks at Sebastian's untied, yet unmoving horse and he steps off his own, landing on thick squidgy mud. It is still raining - drizzling. Suddenly Louis realises this is the worst place he ought to be. Perhaps it had been building throughout the journey from the inn. His sisters, his mother will probably kill him if they knew. James somehow managed to corner him into coming... tempting him to meet these rebels. James who used to be his friend.... but how much did he know about his true intentions? Can he really be trusted?

Their whole family had stayed off the war and rebellion since their father’s death in the beginning. There is so much blood in the hands of the Resistance in the past that the thought of his own decision to meet them suddenly irks him. Their way is resentment and blind fighting - _ revenge _. And it would never be able to walk that blind path or aid anyone in it. This is nothing but a foolish, shady hope.

He was almost about to turn - jump on to the horse and ride back. But as in a que, the thick material draws up, revealing light - and a silhouette.

And just like that his senses freezes him in a shock - overwhelming crash of everything that he could sense. the thwacking smell of living blood, and the sound of it pumping through the veins - the sound of that steady beating and the light blow of breath. The warmth of a living body that he hadn't met with in a long time.

The silhouette moves, dragging the drape further up. Silhouette of a man - _A_ _Human. _Length of his neck and veins of his arms bare, and exposed.

"You must be Lord William Louis of Tomlin." The Human asks casually... standing right in front of him. 

Louis stands there, frozen as his breathing speeds right up in an alarming level. He doesn't dare allow himself to move. If he did, he would speed up to him, grabbed him by his weak neck and sink his waiting teeth in to the man's flesh, sucked him dry. Just as his instinct is urging him to do. He really wanted to, with all means of his existence. Louis once learned the _ control, years and years before _. He had even been quite good at it. But having not faced a living Human for ages must have erased all sense of it, discipline and patience - antagonising the very core of his blood thirsty nature.

Every passing second - every breath the Human is taking, rattles his brain... he couldn’t fight it. He is shaking like a day old Vampire lusting for Human blood. And everything become closer, pointed to the smallest detail in the Human’s movements. He sees the intake of his nostrils and slight rise of his chest, the way his grip tighten around the drape - the Humans' blood filled veins pop in his hand, arm. Louis’ senses are consuming him in whole as the man stares solemnly. .

"I see" the Human murmurs.

The vibration of his voice explodes in Louis' ear, second away from pouncing at the man in front of him.

But then, the man is gone... disappearing behind the drape, and Louis is left in the dark again.

He staggers back to find his footing - releasing the breath he didn't know he was holding. Clenching his chest, he tries to breathe steady. This is a bad idea - a very fucking bad idea from the beginning. He curses at James for even suggesting this utter madness. Tightening his grip at the chest, he wobbles back to the horse with one intention of running away. He should get away from here - far away from here.

But he doesn't make it to more than three steps.

"Is that a heart you are trying to slow down beating?" he hears a voice, and mud heavy steps building behind. Louis' nostrils twinge with a scent it picks ahead of him again. "Because the last time I checked, your one shouldn't be beating, similar to mine."

There is a harsh sarcasm in the familiar tone. _ Sebastian _.

Louis turns to see an unapologetic distaste and a smirk on Sebastian's face, and he tries best to focus on elsewhere than the scent his nose was picking. Not uttering a word, Sebastian holds a silver chalice that he offers Louis without taking the eyes off his face. And Louis doesn't need to look at it to know what it is.

_ The red. Thick. Warm. _

"I'm fine" Louis tells him, pulling away from the trans sensation he keeps dipping in to. This is surely due to the provocation before... it has to be.

"Really? Looks to me as if you were in a drought." his mocking tone doesn't lower even a bit, though his gaze does.

"Hampshion never runs low. Our supplies are constant." Louis crosses his arms on his chest, as if he no longer felt the urge.

"With what? The stale shite you call harvest blood?" Sebastian sneers and pushes the chalice with warm blood to Louis. "A half a pint fresh blood of a horse tastes better than your rotten, weeks old stocks. Have it"

Louis couldn't resist anymore - not when it's just under his chin. He takes the cup, and without even looking at the red content, he empties it kicking off his pride. The moment it touches his tongue, still warm, probably not more than a few minutes old, Louis' whole body vibrates in anticipation. He blinks each time to find his sight getting sharper and sharper along with the other senses. It is like a sudden high and he could feel the rush of fresh blood he knew so long back. He seem to have forgotten how different the warm blood tasted from the farm produced ones they have. 

How on earth does the Resistance have it at their disposal? The rebels are all about Humans, and saving them from Vampire clutch. Whom did they slash to get it?

"You can thank Payne for that." Sebastian says as if he had just read Louis' quizzical face. "Come, " Sebastian sigh. "He's waiting."

Taking the empty chalice from Louis, he starts back towards the tent. This time though he waits to make sure Louis is following him... and Louis has no option but to follow.

Lifting the flap up, Sebastian shoots him an unfazed look. The tent seemed quite small from the outside, and dimly lit. But as soon as he steps through, Louis stops at his feet, frozen. For one, the tent seemed larger. Some sort of a spell work, Louis is sure of it. It's high ceiling canopied in the middle with six poles supporting its weight. Secondly, there are too many people in there than he anticipated. Probably at least ten to fifteen. Mostly Humans, and several Vampires. There was also a woman. A woman of natural practice... An artisan, a sorceress … a _ freaking witch _! Terrifyingly beautiful, she stares at Louis as if she could snap his neck with a click of her fingers... positioned right behind a man dressed in blue, brown and gold - an obvious highborn Human who looked rather relaxed as he studied him.

But that is not all.

Among the mix of Humans, magic and Vampires, there are _ Lycans! _Fucking werewolves... not meek omegas cowing down in obedience, but mighty Alpha wolves... sworn enemies of the Vampire kin. A one bite from a true pure one would kick any Vampire to a certain, utter painful death!!

His skin itches with a sudden unsettling feeling. As far as he knew, there are no Alpha Lycans walking free after the battle of Homas. The threat of their race had been detained by order of the King. They were killed, exiled or contained. The last free kingdom of Lycans, Homas is now colonized under the great Vampire rule. Or so he thought. But here in this bloody camp, there were at least two of them deadly creatures, sitting among his own kind and Humans! And with his recently heightened senses, Louis couldn't resist falling into an immediate fight or flight sensation to protect himself from the fatal threat.

_ Had he walked into a trap? Is he going to get outnumbered by a pack of wolves? _ He didn't know what he is thinking anymore...

"Relax pal, the cubs won't bite"

Sebastian says, passing him without facing him. He goes into take a seat among the several others who sat in somewhat a semi circle. He then steers judging eyes back at Louis as seeing him for the first time.

How on earth are these Vampires calm with wolves around? With a clutter of bodies around, Louis is too afraid to look around to spot them even. But their fumes kept triggering him to run, because even without counting he knew he is outnumbered by the Wolves alone. Why have they called a band of people to this meeting? James only said it's going to be a couple of people... not an army. Are they trying to intimidate him with numbers?

"It's kind of you to come and meet us with such a short notice, Lord William Louis of Tomlin." says the high-born Human sitting in front of the witch with a blink of a smile.

Louis guesses him to be the so called Larcoster prince. It was unmistakable since it's obvious that he lead the crowd in the room - the way everyone's turned towards him as well as their eyes, as if they were ready to follow his word in a second. Maybe it's the effect of fresh blood he gulped down, but Louis no longer feels the urge to sink his teeth to the Humans' skins around. So he openly stares without a word or a greeting. It feels strange to see a Human in control.

"I've been a great admirer of your work since I came across your sculptures in Serandib. Your vision and prim detail. And we've heard a lot of great things about you from James." the man says, getting up to his feet. "I assure you that no one here is a threat to you, including my lovely Taylor here and Adam, Clegane or Edwards." He turns to the witch, and then back to Louis. 

He is tall, lightly bearded with warm brown eyes that spelt a glint of empathy that no Vampire could ever possess. Dressed in a robe and travel boots, his cloak was pinned to the base of his neck with a golden sigil of a clawing beast - a lion. The crest of Larcoster.

"I'm Liam - Liam Payne." He says, omitting out his true lineage as he steps towards Louis.

The witch follows him with a distance, her eyes fixed on Louis untrustingly. Louis wonders what kind of a threat she thinks he could possess to anyone in this tent.

"My apologies for being persistent with the request, but I had to insist Lord Corden. I wouldn't have bothered you this way if it is not of absolute importance." he steps closer with an extended arm and eyes on Louis.

What does he expect him to do? Bow? bend the knee? or shake his hand? Louis was not sure. Technically he's a royal - a prince... perhaps a king in the eyes of his supporters - yet a Human nonetheless. There is no allegiance that Louis could give him. He resorts to stare at the extended hand... which seem to be plastered, covered upon the vein. And just like that, Louis can sense - smell that it's a cut. '_ You can thank Payne for that' - _ Sebastian had said giving the chalice of fresh blood, he remembers _ … _and he takes a step back.

Who the hell is this man? Is he daft?

There is no way he expected a physical contact with Louis... with veins full of blood. Louis certainly didn't - wouldn't. True, that the fresh blood he fed on would give him more control, but Louis didn't trust himself. _ He couldn't stop focusing on the sound of his beating heart pumping blood through his veins... so close - so warm. _

"It's fine." Payne tells him - making Louis' eyes on the man's chest above his heart move up to his face again. "You'll get used to it - soon."

Payne walks around him as Louis stays glued to his spot, unsure what to do or say. He almost flinches as Payne pulls Louis' drenched cloak off him, while he was left staring at the blue eyed witch. 

She looks astonishingly beautiful in her slender, tall form and long goldish, blond hair falling off her shoulders, sleek. Her dark grey cloak was threaded with gold and red with a sheepskin hood. She is definitely very young … but Louis could feel the power of elders running through her veins like a current in water. There was no doubt that she is a practicing witch - but how? Does she have a coven? Sisters? Magic is not allowed in practice anymore. Wizards and Witches were massacred, still being killed for their magic. How in the world did she survive? 

Returning Louis' curious gaze, she sneers at him. There is a perfection to her that he couldn't really touch. Masked face, purified features and defying expression... She is clearly of a noble birth - or been with nobles for a long time.

"Would you care for a late supper Lord William? If not, some warm herbs? Or something stronger?" Liam de Payne asks as he emerges back to his view again, cutting Louis' trans off. "It'll help you to calm your head." He walks back to his seat, gesturing to take the empty chair beside him in an informal circle. "I'll make quick introductions because you've mentioned Bash that you have to be on your way soon to the capital."

“I’ll be fine, thank you.” Louis says as he takes the chair reluctantly, not sure what he is on about. And then he remembers - he hinted to Sebastian that he'll be on the way to the blasted ball in Germia. Right... 

Payne doesn't seem to mind that Louis would be soon heading to the capital - to the King and his council - the very things the Resistance is up against. The brown, calm eyes looks at him with content. "You've met Bash already, Sebastian Bash and beside him is Elton de Cruise of your kin. And next to him is Adam de Prendergast and John Clegane... of Homas"

Deep eyes cutting towards green in colour... the built - the very manner, Louis could tell both of them are Lycans by just looking at him. And he couldn't really take his eyes off them as Payne moves his attention to the other side, laying introductions to several men. The Lycans looks at Louis with calm eyes as if he is completely neutral to his tension, which Louis is sure they weren't.

_ "- and Malcom of Windsor, you might know his extended family in Hampshion from long ago. But they moved out years before I think." _

Louis looks towards the other side to see the Vampire who is eyeing him without a blink. He probably could make a connection if he tried, but his thoughts are far too distracted. His eyes doesn't linger on the Vampire, because he easily picks the sight of another Lycan sitting in the far corner directly behind him. A younger one. He keeps scratching on some scrolls as if the whole encounter didn't concern him to the least. Red hair, smaller built and freckled skin - he is a strange one indeed, but nevertheless a Lycan, Louis is sure of it.

"Beside Loyde of Draken in the far corner where you are looking at, that's Edwards De Sheeran, from Homas. You'll love him for his skill with the Harp if anything. He's the best I've seen so far." 

The Lycan raises his face and looks at Louis - or glares... and for the neutral expression the other two Lycans, this one is the opposite._ There was a clear disdain in his gaze which he didn't try to hide. _ "And to my right we have the last but not least our beloved Alison, Taylor Alison," Payne says gesturing at the witch who smirks again at Louis again. It is a true contrast to Payne's calmer, kinder face. 

"You must find it's a strange company to be in, Lord of Tomlin." her voice chimes for the first time. "It must be refreshing to realise diversity exist."

The fawning and calculating gazes points at him. It does feel like an unknown territory… sitting this close to a Human, but he feels more rattles being near Wolves. It's not as if he was any less affected by the Humans, but the scent of the Lycans seem to mess with his instincts. Where Human scent made his temptations rise, the scent of the Wolves were making him want to dash out. Run. But he forces himself to stay put.

If Sebastian and any Vampire present noticed his ordeal, they seem to ignore it.

"How was your ride Lord Tomlin? James mentioned you’ve not travelled for some time." Payne asks.

"Call me Louis, please, Lord. I've been away from formalities a long time" He pushes his running thoughts to calm down. And it seems to work, though he is not sure if it is due to his control or the strange scented smoke emanating from several goblets around the tent. 

"The last time I set foot out of Hampshion was about fifty years back. Many of you might have been toddlers then." Gloating about immortality in front of a bunch of mortals is clearly dumb. But there are so many years of the world that he avoided. And he doesn't mention the last time he travelled out of Hampshion was to search for his sister in the Academia at Aida.

A light chattering evokes at his words, but Payne gazes at him without losing his grin. 

"Must have been about fifteen then. I was a child." he says.

Louis eyes him lightly. "Blessed with the dreads of long life. You must be a _ Larcoster. _" He states the obvious. Payne doesn't look a day older than thirty, though actually he must be at least sixty five. And compared to his fellow mortals who would pass away at that age, that should mean a long life.

Payne smiles easily, not betraying a word.

"And you are a Mainac." Taylor Alison cuts. She sips something off a chalice, fixing her cool eyes on Louis.

"Prefer to be a Tomlin to be honest." he says as a matter of fact. "The name seem to precede me, even though we are an off branch."

The witches stare doesn't move.

"Lucky for you. Guess you know all about the dreads of long life too though. Having been around longer." She takes another sip.

"Too much, perhaps my Lady" Louis looks around at Sebastian and the Vampire next to him, careful to avoid the Lycans. "- but I've not been out and about in recent times. Rest of my kin would know better."

Payne grins, though he tries not to. The Taylor glares at Louis. 

"If you haven't left Hampshion for long, you must have not been there to see Homas fall." A man, Payne introduced as Milton asks. It sounds like an accusation - as if it had something to do in the kingdom falling.

Louis stares at his rugged features and plain face, suddenly feeling a little more conscious about the crowd he's surrounded by. Are they going to fault him of his lack of participation in the war and feed him to the bloody Alphas? As absurd it might sound, there was a time when these extremists did exactly that, standing by their sociopath leader Malakai. '_ If you are not with us, you're against us," _ were his famous words. This is threading closer to that ruthless Resistance which fell after Malakai the Dark's death. _ What did James get him in to? _

He looks pointedly at the man as he speaks without betraying an emotion "It should be about a decade ago. So, no. I guess not.

"Yet you are going to the Germia's celebration ball? To drink to their victory of Homas falling." The man sounds spiteful, as same as the most gazes directed at Louis, including that of his own kind. "...to celebrate the massacring half of the kingdom without a reason."

Louis stares impassively at him. Well he did gloat to Sebastian about the bloody Ball to assure his return. But it didn't seem to be a good idea to say otherwise just yet. He needs to play wise in this enemy territory. One wrong turn, and he will be dead for sure.

"I got an invitation from the castle." he says simply, though he was tempted to say the kingdom of Lycans was invaded for a reason - it posed a fatal threat to Vampires.

"So you simply respond to any invitation?" It is Sebastian this time.

Louis glares at his sour expression. He must have been of status, ranks with the King's court he now despises. But now he’s an outcast in the capital for whatever the reason. 

"Seems so." Louis sneers easily this time. "As I did to yours."

Irritated murmurs start from the crowd as Louis eyes Sebastian calmly. Payne chuckles out of nowhere, and Louis looks at him to meet with an amused expression. He fails to see what the Larcoster must have found entertaining in the exchange.

"Hardly arguable." Payne says. Then looks towards the army of rebels with a calm authority in his eyes, and lifts his hand as to ask for silence. It is impressive to see how the crowd responds to the small gesture of this human.

"Our guest has travelled a long way, and it's best that we keep the matters short so he can be on his way. Thank you for the presence here everyone, I think it's wise that I take it from here with Lord Tomlin, privately. Bash, Adam and Taylor - you may join if you wish."

He sounds light and casual. And the group looks at him unsurely, unspoken mistrust floating for Louis’ presence. Louis couldn't possibly imagine how they assume him to be a treat to the Larcoster, especially around the group he invited to stay behind. He could understand their fear for the unknown. But to see similar expressions from the Vampires was surprising. Even from Sebastian, who seem more displeased to be in the smaller council. He must been disapproving this meeting all along.

The tent empties soon as the group disappears behind the back - some not failing to give Louis the distaste and disapproval just by staring.

"You have to forgive my clan, Lord Tomlin. Their skepticism comes from what they know of you." Payne says after it is only five of them left in the tent. He looks rather at ease now.. The other three must be his closest council - though he has to admit that it's a rather odd group. Louis keeps his eyes on Payne, though there are four sets of eyes staring at him. He would rather cut to the chase and get on with the matters - but here in this tent with the face of rebellion, the counter power to the King's regime, it didn't feel wise to push it.

"Call me Louis, please my Lord. I've stayed away from formalities for a long time." He repeats, "- and what do they think they know about me?"

Resting his chin on his knuckles Lord Payne spares him a thoughtful gaze. "Not to offend your family, but I can say that your blood connection to the King, Lord Benedict puts you in an unavoidable frame as a Dagger. Blood is blood for most of people. And you being personally invited to celebrate a victory to the regime surely gives enough reasons. Don't you think, _ Louis?” _

Louis nods - though he wanted to laugh, he doesn't**.**

"Fair enough. But you don't seem to mind my blood ties to the King or my attendance for the festivities in the capital. What makes you think my allegiance is not with the King?"

Sebastian leans back without blinking an eye and Adam smirked to himself while Taylor Alison crosses her arms with a blank stare at Louis. Payne angles his face, his gaze serious.

"I think it is highly unlikely that someone with your title and rank would choose to remain in the likes of Hampshion in Benedict's most glorious years if you are allied to him." He blinks looking at Louis' unmoving face. "My old friend, James, vouched for you. And I have no reason to doubt him. But more than any of that, I find it interesting that a land-lord like you, with hundreds of Humans in your farms would grant them as much freedom in circumstance. True you contribute to King's harvest, yet your farms doesn't bleed them dry like most or use compulsion. You prefer to buy the shortages from Grostle farms in Yaary lands far away while making your farms harvest on corn."

Payne explains cautiously, while Louis stares.

Both Sebasthian and Pendagust look surprised, turning their heads to their leader, but not Taylor, the witch. Perhaps Louis should be more cautious with his things at home. If the leader of the Resistance could find out about his management over his own lands, how far can he hide it from the capital? Was it James who sold him out? And if the Larcoster think that's enough reason to believe that Louis would turn to his side in by chance, he's mistaken.

"My loyalty lie with the cause, honour and reason, My Lord. It's everything the King's justice lacks. And so does your side. I wouldn’t side with either. Nor will I fight it. I will take no part in this power game." He says avoiding the topic about his farmlands.

"So your solution is hiding? That needs no honour or reason... just cowardice." Sebastian scoffs. "Caging a set of barely compelled humans in your farms won't solve anything for the rest of them. Aren't you once a white Knight, sworn to the brotherhood of Elgar? To protect the realm at harm?" 

Louis spares his flaring face an impassive glance. Perhaps false mockery or anger is his style. He can't expect any less from a bunch of violence endued rebels for sure. And this conversation seem to go off track more than necessary. 

"Brotherhood of Elgar was disbanded long before your mother was even born, Sebastian. I haven't picked up a sword in this century, and I don't intend to. There's less I can do when the world chooses the sword instead of peace."

Louis' words comes sharper than he intends. It feels like an interrogation for him - one they've already decided on his side, despite what Payne had told him earlier. If they are here to judge him, why call him here? They should have let him be at peace at Hampshion, not lured him out baiting his sister's name.

"When you have swords coming at you in every corner, the only solution is to pick up a one, or it will slash your gut before you even know it." Taylor says grimly. Her eyes looks darker, her skin paler for some reason. "This is a dark time even if you see it or not."

Louis stares at her openly. "The dark time you are talking about is nothing but a lie your ancestors sawed around, Lady... the earlier generations who were slaves to their nature. There was a time when war was a choice. Oppression and power hunger came right with it. The imaginary fight between the dark and light didn't really happen in this world. It's nothing but a lie that keeps it going. What happened was that everyone _ picked _the war. The chairs of power... each and every race. They chose violence and death over peace..."

Louis knew he is overstepping his territory - he could see it from the faces in front of him. But apart from clear glints of disagreement, the four in front of him don't seem to possess any thoughts of striking him down. At Least not yet.

"You are talking about a past war, Louis. A war that was seeded years ago. None of us mortals can stand for the choices of the past. But would you rather let the world shatter because you disagree with the things in the past?" Payne asks searchingly - as if he genuinely wanted to know what Louis thought. Perhaps he did, and Louis found it strange.

"A war is never meant to be fair. At Least not the end - regardless who won. The Resistance lost while the victors made their path as they saw fit. It is a path chosen by everyone who thought war was the answer - including the ones who lost... because that is where it all led in the end. And now things have settled to a lesser violence. Lesser evil. Who am I to judge the likes of the world? I merely let it spin however it wants. It is what it is"

"Lesser evil for who, Lord Tomlin? For your kin?"

Adam de Prendergast, the Lycan nobel asks. It is the first time Louis hears him speak since he stepped into the tent. There is no sarcasm in his tone nor mocking. And it makes Louis turn to him despite everything.

His green eyes look agitated, even betrayed as he speaks.

"My kind nor my kingdom had nothing to with the war you speak of - but our kingdom was slaughtered... massacred, it's Queen murdered along with many in the court. The rightful heir to the throne, the one and only Alpha Prime alive, was taken, corrupted - nurtured into a traitor to his own kind. More than half of the toddlers crushed in their cribs. Children torn from their mothers, killed... still being killed, under suspicion of being Alphas who might try to fight. Uncountable numbers are forced into slavery or worse fates by the monster you call your King. 

We never _ chose _ war, Lord Tomlin. Our kingdom merely gave refuge to the Humans and Warlocks who sought protection from tyranny. We paid the price because _ our _Queen chose empathy towards Humans, and because we were your kind's natural enemies. It was nothing but paranoia and desperation of a mad, power hungry King - your uncle. Our kingdom is ruined by fear, hate and despair. We are nothing but victims of the evil you prefer to ignore, because it is the easy thing to do."

** **

And there it was - the bane of everything that Louis had chosen to run away from. 

Wished he fought against, but never did because it's too late. He had heard of this recent ill history in drunken gossip. The fall of once mighty kingdom of Lycans, Homas. The fate of its Monarchy that was dragged down by the regime of Vampires, leading the whole race to near extinction and contamination. Some hailed the King’s victory and some scowled at it from a far in the safety of Hampshion. 

But by what right can a one race cause any of that? Eliminating a group that were different to theirs? The sins of his own kind which had no lengths or ends. 

But his personal remorse meant nothing to right the wrongs. And the last thing Louis is willing to do here is to stand with a set of hostiles who pretend to stand for peace. These are rebels, out laws - yes, the Vampire King and his subordinates are at fault for most of this injustice... but Resistance path of violence is the last thing Louis considered to be the solution.

** **

"I am sorry for the losses your kind has endured, Lord Pendagast. I truly am. But my sympathy matters nothing, and I have no answers for you... I hold no accountability on anything my uncle the King or his supporters caused . My family suffered loss long before this war even started for your people, and I came here to this meeting only for that one reason." 

It might sound selfish, yet the truth is better than deception. Louis did not want to give them a reason to believe that he would fight for their cause - or worse, join them. 

The four of them stare at him without any words.

"I agreed to this council because James told me you have information that could lead me to find what became of my sister. If there is a price I could pay in exchange for it, so be it. But let me be clear. I have no intention to be a part of your rebellion."

Louis doesn't bring up the name _ Klaus _ to them. He could feel them calculating their next words, even Payne. Maybe what Louis said was least expected. 

Sure, there is a claw of injustice choking the world. But it isn’t Louis' place to try to pry those fingers away. These people, these rebels have chosen their path. But he, Louis had gone off that road long time back. He had no intention to be in this intense company more than necessary.

"What we ask in exchange for that information is nothing but a favour, Louis." Payne says. Louis feels he's finally cutting to the chase. Others stare at Louis quietly.

"And what is this favour?" he keeps his face blank.

Payne presses his lips thin and keeps staring at Louis and Louis could read his open thoughts even without trying. He is sceptical of Louis' connection to the King - no matter what he said before - and was unsure of how much he's able to reveal to him without risking - though Louis had no idea what he's trying to keep him in the dark about.

"We sent someone to Germia on a mission. Someone who should have returned a week ago, but didn't. And we need to find out what happened to him without blowing his cover, or the mission. And if possible, get him out." Payne sounds grim and his face even grimmer.

Louis hesitates. Sent someone. _ To Germia? _ Who did not return. Want to get him back? He gets an inkling where this is heading. But he keeps his thoughts to himself. 

"Blowing his cover? No disrespect... but if you haven't heard from this someone for that long in Germia, they should be already dead." he says instead.

It seemed rather obvious.

"I did a spell on him so I'd know if he is." Taylor, the witch says casually as if it is an everyday occurrence, her eyes sparkling in a glassy blue. "And he is alive."

"A spell like that doesn't work on a Vampire. There's a reason we are referred to as undead." Louis blurts matter of fact.

"You seem to know more about magic for a Vampire, lord Louis." Taylor says calmly. "And no, he's not a Vampire. He's a Lycan."

Louis blinks in confusion. "You sent a Lycan to the capital on a mission and expect him to come out alive?" That sounds delicious, even for the Resistance. "Is there a point in asking what the mission is?" Louis looks at all four of their faces. And he couldn't help but nod knowingly at their blank faces.

"We are sorry that we cannot be more transparent." Payne says before anyone. "The less you know at this point, the better. You might presumably find out in Germia anyway." 

Payne pauses, staring at Louis hard... as if he is muttering out a secret. "What's important is that he's alive, Louis. And I think it would be in your best interest that he is as well."

Louis cocks a brow "Why?"

Payne takes a second to answer. "The Person we are anticipating the return from the capital is the same person you seek to meet regarding your sister, Louis. Your sister's friend, _ Klaus _ . _ Klaus _ _ Hugarstarlin _."

It is Louis' turn to stare at the brown calm eyes this time, with the information dawns on him slowly. Klaus? Klaus Hugarstarlin? But... _ Klaus is a Lycan? _His sister's friend is a Wolf? That's impossible.

"You seem unsure." Payne declares as if he could read Louis' thoughts.

All five of their eyes are on him, following every movement...his reaction to the revelation. True, there's some historic Warlock links to Tomlin name, but association with Lycans is a different story. Is some kind of a joke? Or a set up? True, Louis has no idea who this Klaus is, nor he asked Felicity when she mentioned him in her letters long back. He just assumed as same as many, because even at that time, acquaintances between Vampires and Lycans were rare... to the point of non existing.

But is this true? Or is it a lie of convenience?

"I can show you if you like." Louis stares at Payne as the other four look at their leader concerned. "I can let you see."

Louis blinks. Is the Larcoster prince inviting Louis to see his memories? Louis is an age old Vampire... and he could rip a Human mind apart in a second if he wanted to, Larcoster or not. Didn't he just say he'd rather keep the details of this mission from Louis. Is he an idiot?

Mind channelling is a known Vampire trait. But it is not an easily archived or an eagerly practiced one, unless you are one of the few who mastered the art. Because for vampires, compelling another mind is easier than reading one. But perhaps anyone should not have underestimated Louis on this.

Payne gazes at Louis - calm and focused. It is an easy invitation. Clear and direct... should he wait for another word and waste the chance? Louis thinks not. Before anyone says another word, or Payne changes his mind, Louis dives in. And he gets why the Larcoster thought it's a good idea to invite him in - because he feels the shield abilities right away. But it is no match for the force Louis throws in. Perhaps Payne didn't expect him to jump in at the first invite. Because he stumbles off whatever the composure he had in his mind. What an absolute idiot...

Traces of his memories flashes around Louis one after the other like passing live images - _ of a stone castle with stairs, children playing with wooden swords, brown long haired woman sitting on a window still smiling with adoring eyes. It quickly blurs, replacing with a counsel gathering in a circular fire lit room, men bowing on one knee. _

_ "We will follow you to the death" one of the sword bearers says on one knee... _

_ Louis notices that he is wearing the symbol of the rooted tree - the tree of hope - the crest Resistance often uses as a mark of their own. Then it all fades into a woman on a red stoned platform. There were armed soldiers around her with strong build and green eyes. Lycans... Louis could tell. "We will join banners with you," the woman says. Her eyes are greener, sharper in the most ethereal way possible. She wore a gold circlet of a crown on her forehead. _

_ It changes again… and Payne is talking with an armed Lycan this time. And there's giggling behind the curtains, making him look back. Someone peek through the red velvet drape. Someone young... with a mop of hair. And behind him there were several other children who run away leaving this one child, who stares back at him with the most impressive green eyes… daringly at him. Then it goes away as well. _

_ Flashes keep coming of people, places and other things like a rolling dream. _

Prying is the last thing Louis had in mind... but he couldn't do anything to stop the playing memories even if tried. So he waits until Payne seem to settle. And in the end, he does. Payne grasps his control, pulling out a black blankness around Louis, shielding away.

Then the images that he pushes towards Louis are of a memory of a male, an obvious Lycan - _ Klaus _ _ Hugarstarlin _, he guesses. And next to him, it was none other than his sister, Felicity.

Her eyes are as blue as Louis remembers, big and bright. Her dark hair is longer than he'd known, but otherwise she looks exactly the same. She has a dark cloak covering her up but Louis could recognise her anywhere... his lost sister - the one he had been searching for years and years. The one his mother is heart broken about. He could just watch her as she laughs at something. Something the man says. 

He tries to focus on the male - Klaus, the Lycan. Green eyes, tall sturdy posture but a kind of a lean physique. Louis could tell that he is sharp, vigilant and calculating, even though he was laughing light-heartedly in that moment. He surely had skills in combat , his looks couldn't be more obvious.

Looking through Payne's eyes, Louis wasn't able to look around to see where they were - but it is probably a tent, and it was dark. The voices were all a blur - clearly Payne trying to block it away. Louis could very easily rip through Payne's restrains if he tried... he could rip through this image and look into his mind without much of a fight. But he doesn't.

He just pulls back, letting his own vision to take over while Payne hits back in his chair as if thrown back, doubling down and leaning to his knees breathing.

It only took a few seconds, but Payne seems to be out of breath.

As Louis looks up from him, Sebastian is already on his feet and Taylor gets up as well, realizing what just happened. And Adam's hand is already inside his coat as if about to pull a weapon out of it - typical for a Lycan. All three of them glare at Louis as he glared right back. But then Payne chuckles in his still doubled form, straightening back and fixing Louis with a sort of an amused gaze. The other three looks at him in their alarmed positions as if he had gone mad.

"I thought Vampires needed physical contact for that." Payne sounds breathless, but amused as he speaks.

Louis would have smirked at him, but what he just saw seem to drain his will to put up this act anymore. So he just sighs.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." Louis leans to his right, not taking his eyes off Payne's face. "You should be more vigilant when you invite someone into your mind, Lord Payne, especially if you don't know how far they can reach - no matter how much you think you can resist. I'll advise you against it."

"Advice taken." Payne says with a bow. His expression is still strange when he looks at Louis though - as if he was viewing Louis for the first time. He gestures both Taylor and Sebastian to sit and turns back to Louis. "Now you know who he is. And you know it's the truth."

Louis just keep staring at their faces without blinking, though inside, his mind is hammering - New pieces of information spiking at his thoughts. _If Klaus is a Resistant member, and was close to Felicity, what are the odds that Felicity didn't support them, the Resistance?_ He felt hesitant even to thread in that idea. Did James know about this? Did he intentionally hide it from Louis all along? True, Academia was infected with Resistant ideas and radicalistic ideology. There were always rumours that fires of the Academia was not an accidental occurrence. That the King's supporters had a hand in it. Whatever it was, there seems to be only one way to find out. 

_ Klaus. _

But could he really head to the capital? He had sworn never to step in to that place. Did he have a choice now?

In front of him, Payne straightens in his chair before he speaks, and three pairs of eyes were on Louis, anticipating his every movement.

"Klaus is inside the capital somewhere. We need to find out what happened to him." He sounds grim, and for a moment he seems older than he looks. "None of our men or Lycans here are able to enter anyway. Germia is not a place for us. And none of the Vampires will be able to pass the gates without getting caught because most of them have warrants for their heads. But you on the other hand is already heading that way, with an invitation."

Payne's eyes are hopeful as same as the other three. And Louis couldn't help glancing down quickly, watching the empty carpeted floor between them. And it doesn't take long for the Larcoster prince catch Louis' avoiding gaze and be dawned with the relegalization.

"You were never planning to go." Payne says softly.

The other three gazes between Payne and Louis. Sebastian looks confused, Taylor... angry and Pendagust, the wolf, probably unimpressed. But Louis only looks at Payne. 

"I wasn't." he admits looking straight into the man's eyes and sighs.

Louis hadn't said that he wouldn't - just that he wasn't planning to... And it makes Payne look hopeful once again, or relieved. If any of them knew of Louis' unrelenting quests to find his sister, they would have known that Louis could not miss this chance - not after seeing Felicity like that. _ Damn James... he knew exactly what he was pushing Louis into _. He knew exactly Louis would fall for this if Payne played it the way he did.

"But even if I agree to go, I'm nothing but a stranger there. I know no one in Germia. Am I to roam around searching for an Alpha Lycan in the capital? That would be absurd." Louis says. Surely they must understand it's an impossible task. And it would cause him his head if anything goes wrong.

Payne doesn't seem worried. If anything, he looks at Louis with more assurance. "We have allies inside the capitol. Allies with power and rank who will help us. Only that we have no direct contact in this period of time. The admission to the capital is highly guarded because of the festival. So is leaving the city. No stranger without a proper declaration would be able to pass the gates." Payne threads words carefully, perhaps because Louis gives no reactions. "But if we can get someone in, we can get our ally to aid him."

"You've got allies at high places in Germia?... who?" Louis asks point blank because it sounds ridiculous. Who would risk to betray the mighty tyrant King in his territory. Who would be that foolish?

"There are several. One of them is a Lord in King's high court. The Duke of Rowland"

The name doesn't ring a bell. Louis hadn't been anywhere near Germia for nearly a half a century that there would be very less people he's familiar with other than the King himself. But this new information surprised him. An ally right inside the King's high court? That sounds impossible. But he kept his doubts to himself not trying to look dubious in front of their imploring gazes

"It's not only the oppressed and out casts like us that think the world had suffered enough under the King's rule, Louis" Payne says binding his hands behind his back. There was an assurance in his tone that Louis couldn't really wrap his mind around. "You will get all the assistance you need - and protection. Perhaps the only thing you would need to do is to notify them. They will find him - they will arrange a way for you to bring Klaus out of Germia."

"You make it all sound easy, Lord Payne. But do you know how easily this could turn into a disaster in a blink? I can lose my head for this."

Payne looks at him with an unwavering patience. "Lord Hugarstarlin set off for Germia _ knowing _that it may cause his life, yet he knew the mission - if succeeded, would change everything for his kind, to the Human kind as well as everyone in your kin who believe in freedom, honour and justice. His reasons were his own, - but on the other hand, this would be the only chance you'll get to know what exactly what happened at Aida all those years back."

Louis stares, and Payne at him. And Louis knew he's already lost this to his own self. Rebellion or whatever, if there's any possible chance of knowing what happened in Aida at all, Louis knew he would take it without a question. Even if everything about this set up shouted to be a fool's hope. Payne here seemed to know that. Louis had no intention to throw himself into the matters of this rotting world, but he would try to protect his family from it's clutches if it's the last thing he does.

Leaning forward, he spares a gaze at everyone in front of him. Their anticipating expressions makes him agitated than he wants to admit. Their heroic or rebellious ideas did not appeal to him any more. This has got to be the shittiest alliances of all time.

"I can agree to ride to the capital and attend the celebration. And keep a look out for this Lycan, Klaus... and I can aid him to leave the city if that won't endanger me or my family while I am in there... on two conditions-"

All of their eyes are on him, unblinking.

"I'll be riding back to Hampshion after five days, as soon as the celebrations are over. And I don't wish this acquaintance to continue afterwards...this is a one time and one time only."

Three out of four faces in front of Louis look at him with contempt while Payne gazes at Louis' stoic face calmly.

"That's a fair request. If you aid us this time, we won't trouble you again... I give my word." His tone is slightly tensed though, as he still stares. "And the second?"

"That someday you'll return the favour with no questions asked - as I am doing now. I need your word that you will aid me in my hour of need."

"Didn't you just say you don't want this acquaintance to continue under any circumstances?" Pendagust asks as if it was the most absurd thing he heard in this entire conversation. "Finding Klaus Hugarstarlin matters to you the same as us. Yet you expect us to aid you when you want nothing to do with the Resistance afterwards?" he scoffs.

Louis doesn't react, keeping his eyes on Payne as in a staring match. The Larcoster prince lifts his chin up, seeming to measure up the Vampire in front of him, probably thinking of the odds that Louis would actually need his help.

"I'll give you my word." he says then, as both the Lycan and Taylor shakes heads with clear disapproval. And Sebastian looks away as if he wanted to hide the smirk lines on his face.

"And one more thing..." Louis says leaning to a side of his chair. His eyes perhaps betraying a slight more interest than he had throughout all of this conversation. "What is he to the rebellion?" Louis asks. "This Klaus..? Why do you want him back even if he might have failed this mission? It's not likely for the Resistance to take back failures."

"He's one of us. " Taylor says, her blue sapphire eyes gleaming at Louis. "We won't abandon one of ours." She keeps her stare fixed at Louis while Adam's gaze flickers. And it is enough for Louis to know there is something floating among them.

He smirks at them. " If the Resistance cared about each and every soul that went missing or got captured, this war would have had a different end. Isn't it?"

"Nicklaus Hugarstarlin is a descent of Losmorion house of the north. He might not have the same name but he and the late Lycan queen shares the same blood from their grandfathers... the same as you and the King Benedict. He's the last free Alpha of the Royal bloodline." Payne says carefully as Louis keep staring.

It sounded more absurd now. They've sent a fucking highborn wolf into one of their deadly missions and lost him? Why was he sent there the first place if he is of importance?

"And the full moon is in two weeks." Payne adds watching Louis' blank face. "He needs to be in a safe place before that for the sake of so many, including himself." he adds.

An Alpha wolf of high blood roaming the capital in the full moon? The sound of it screamed everything of a definite bloodbath - for both the wolf and the residents of the capital. The Resistant surely cared less of the lives of the Vampires that would suffer their most feared death - being gutted by Lycan teeth.

But if this Klaus is the last living free highborn Alpha in their range, yes that Louis could imagine their desperation..

……………………………………………

“... look. He’s moving again.” 

A voice whispers somewhere around him. Smell of dried blood pollutes his breath. Something rattles softly, dragging through the hard floor.

“He’s surely having a fit, same as last week. Maybe the fever is getting worse again. Imagine the smell if he dies here.” Another whispers. 

There was an immediate hiss, and silence as _ Klaus _ _ Hugarstarlin _ stirs.

“No, I think he’s waking up.” the voice says confidently. “Finally.”

“... still think he’s an Alpha?” 

“I know he's an Alpha. He’s chained isn’t he? And just look at him. He is an Alpha.” 

“Nonsense. They wouldn’t have put him in here if he was. He would have been killed on the spot.” the third one says. “Must be an overgrown beta. I’ve seen several taller than Alphas.”

“Can’t say that about the old Gaddof there.” Someone chuckles.

“Shhhh, he’s really waking up…”

Voices goes down as Klaus tries to move. He feels disoriented and weak. A killer headache pounds his head like a hammer. The ground he lay feels rusty and cold. And his limbs feel heavy. Chains. He figures. _Where is he? _ His thoughts feel disorientated than his body. How long had he been out? He wonders feverishly.

Pressing on the hard floor he lifts his body up, sitting up to a seating position as his head sways loose. Pain shot up from his back as he moves - _ the knives _, he remembers. Reaching behind with his hand, he feels his skin where it flames, but finds the wound almost healed. Knives must have been poisoned - he figures, or the cut would have been painless by now. Mindless sadness creeps over him as his last memories return. Does that mean the Alpha Prime is dead? Had he at least managed to end his life before the capture? There is no way to find out. He tries to focus on his surroundings to avoid heartache and raising in his swaying head. 

The light was dim - so it was dark. But he could make out a likes of a dungeon around him. There are thick spiked bars in front of him. This must be Germia' s prison - Klaus realises, looking at the decaying brick walls and unkempt floors. The dusty, old space smells of death and hunger, in contrast to everything he had seen in the capital. Across the cramped space of his cell, three faces are staring at him with wide eyes, watching him. Theirs is a larger cage. And unlike his solitude one, there were several in it, some, coiled in corners, huddles together in small packs.

The three were leaping through the thick bars with anticipation, as if he was the only new face they had seen for ages. Maybe he is.

“Who are you?” One of them asks. 

His face had patches of dirt, the robes he wore were old and torn. He is barely a man - a boy - same as the other two. Innocent eyed, smaller frames, docile features... Omegas. It was obvious. Most of the presence around sensed the same, apart from one or two Betas. Several others seem to crowd near the bars, watching him. Old and young.

“No one.” Klaus says wearily, drawing his knees closer. How long have they been here rotting in this cage?

“You’re an Alpha.” another one spells. All three of them looks amused.

Klaus doesn’t react - merely gazes at them with a nagging sadness.

“Are you?” the omega repeats. More seem to step out, watch him behind their bars. More of his abandoned people. 

“Maybe.” he says, leaning his head back to the hard wall. “How long was I out?”

“About two weeks maybe. You were hurt.”

Silent, he closes his eyes. _ Two weeks? _ He swallows deep. The mission is failed then. At Least half of it for sure. His stomach growls with lack of food for long. Two weeks is a long time to be without food in his system - even for a Lycan._ Why have they kept him alive this long? Why haven’t they killed him right away._ He wonders behind shut eyes.

“Are you here to save him then?” one of the Omegas asks again.

Opening his eyes, Klaus steers his head and look at him. “Who?

“The Prince.” the young Omega’s eyes look hopeful, as same as the many staring at him in their side of the cell… and it makes Klaus look away.

When the dungeon guards eventually bring food, Klaus is beyond famished. The recovery without any food in his system had made him extra weak. So he doesn’t even hesitate to pounce over the scraps of stale bread and raw meat that they throw at him through the bars after realising he is finally awake. 

There is not much of it, maybe they only brought enough for the Omegas. But even then, it is less to feed about a dozen and a half Lycans jailed there. How often do they bring food? Surely not often by the look of skinny Lycans scraping at the poor meal. The guards seem to watch him carefully as if he is a different creature to the others. He wonders if they knew what he did before he was thrown in here. Is there any chance he could get information out of them of what happened? He wonders.

“These are raw…” a younger voice complains as Klaus devours everything edible at his reach silently in his lone cell.

The guard turns to the cell the voice came from angrily, “Shut the fuck up!” he spits, kicking at the bars of the cell across, making the Lycans cower back. “Bloody whinging mutts..” He throws more of the cold, raw meat in to the cell.

“What are you looking at?” the other guard growls at Klaus with his flaming torch at hand. Klaus glares back for a moment before casting his eyes back to the ground. He knew that the fucking Vampire won’t approach him alone even if he wanted to - even if his limbs were retrained by chains._ Spainless bloodsuckers. _

After throwing all the leftovers carelessly into the cells, the guards leave with their flaming torches… letting the darkness takeover the dungeon again. They all wait until their eyes adjust back to the black to scape for anything more edible on the floor.

“Prince must be still away… it’s been weeks now.” Klaus hears someone murmur in the corner with a still growling belly.

  
_  
_

It doesn’t take long for the King’s soldiers to come for him. The prison guards must have alerted their superiors that he had woken up. Maybe _ finally _ they are ready to finish him off.

The sound of their metallic armour clattering catches Klaus’s ears before even the doors open. The dungeon goes silent with dripping fear, the Lycans huddling in corners of dark. Surely soldiers down here mustn’t have been a pleasant experience looking at their reactions The sword clad Vampires pours in behind the fire lit torches of the guards, and it amazes him to see half a dozen soldiers line up when the jailor unlocks the bars to his cell though. They seem to fear him even in this weak, restrained form.

Closing in, the soldiers seem cautious - as if he had any strength to overrun them. And when he doesn’t even move, they start to chain him up, restricting most of the movements he had up until now even with the chains. His neck was locked to his bound hands and waist at the back, obstructing any mobility in his neck… Legs locked at his ankles, to avoid any sudden steps. The blindfold comes last, shielding his vision into darkness. At their complete mercy, he doesn’t even try to make sense of where they are taking him. He couldn’t even try if he wanted, only knew that it took forever. 

When his bare feet touches polished marble and the air smells nothing but luxury, Klaus realises he must be inside a house, or a palace. His ears catches nothing but the sound of metal and vile words from the Vampire soldiers, their grips turn harsher and tighter. Soon they push him to his knees, and chain him to a cold wall by wrists. Disoriented with constraints, he waits. Maybe this is the end. Maybe they will finally kill him. Because they must know that there is no way they can get a grown Alpha Lycan to reveal anything to them. It’s just not possible.

Heavy footsteps around him move away, and a strange presence catches his senses before even the blindfold is taken off his eyes. It takes a few seconds for his vision to adjust back to sight, having been in the dark since he had woken up. And he finds himself in a room with a decorated ceiling. Black and white drapes were drawn close to cover up half of the space, yet it’s ornate bits and the flaming fireplace in the other edge of the room couldn’t be hidden entirely. On the floor in front of him was an uncut moonstone slab, rising just above the ground with metal rings attached to its four corners. Maybe they intend to torture him, to make him reveal any secrets he is holding - which is not surprising. Well they can try.

But what catches Klaus’ attention is an unmoving figure standing next to the fireplace. Dressed in a black velvet robe with the hood down, it is clearly a Vampire. What surprises him is the magical signature his natural instinct reads off him, which he had never seen exist. With a cold calculating look on his face, the Vampire watches Klaus’ prone from a far. A Vampire cannot be a Warlock - Klaus knew. But there seem to be something closer in his presence. _Who is he?_ Klaus wonders, measuring the pale presence that looks like reaping death. Authoritative, malistic... his aura that doesn't settle right.

Klaus doesn’t get to thread longer calculating the Vampire with sound on doors slamming open somewhere around. And screech of a women’s desperate begging and screaming breaks the peace of silence with hurried footsteps on the marble floor.

“Mercy… mercy. Give him mercy for little longer… please..-” the cry gets louder.

A black clad soldier with the crest of the dagger on his chest comes in, leading someone in loose bedclothes - with a shaking and crying women at their toe. The moment the woman spots the robed Vampire in the corner, she sprints at his direction dropping to her knees, crying frantically, as the soldier drags the other towards Klaus. Leaner figure, long hair and refined features even in his weaker form; 

_The Alpha Prince_, to Klaus’ utter disdain, is still alive.

It was impossible with amount of wolfsbane used in those daggers. But he had survived, despite the fatal wounds he inflicted him. The woman screeching and sobbing is the maid, the Beta he kicked off on the balcony. Klaus recognises. 

The Prince looks terribly weak nonetheless. His footing is feeble even with support, and patches of blood is visible in the bandages between his unbuttoned shirt. He was pale, as same as an undead, and surely in pain. It looked as if he had been dragged out of his sickbed. Guilt seeps into Klaus’ thoughts, physically tugging at him as he him - the Alpha Prime he owed his allegiance to, but tried to slay.

What are these filth trying to do? Get the Prince to recognise who tried to murder him? And failed? _Are they trying to kill him in front of the Prince to as revenge?_

The maid’s begging howl reaches a frenzy at the Vampire's feet as the Prince is dropped to his knees on the moonstone in front of Klaus. With a moment’s wince in pain, the Prince’s head folds up slowly, searching for Klaus in eye level with a haze in his eyes. Klaus stares with a confusion. He thought the moonstone was meant for him.

“Please... please have mercy on him." More cries. "His wounds are still not healed, My Lord. He's weak.” the maid begs hysterically from the other corner, crawling behind the Vampire as he starts towards them…

“Have mercy, please!!!”

“Silence!!” the Vampire orders with such a dark echo, turning back to the maid in midway - finally reaching his patience. The maid cowers, stilled in her shaking knees, continues to sob in the middle of the floor, giving up.

The soldier locks iron cuffs around the Prince’s wrists and ankles without a struggle, and Klaus’ breath rises with an unexpected fear. He watches Prince pant on air, looking up at him again with unfocused eyes. Klaus tries to make sense of it as the soldier chains the Prince’s wrist to the hard stone. But he couldn’t. 

Then the green eyes focus on Klaus, finally. Steady and clearer this time. Determined, despite the pain and all else. Alpha to Alpha.

_‘It’s alright.’ _

Klaus hears in his mind - the voice of the Alpha Prime, clear as the silver moon, deep as his fine green eyes, though they were red rimmed. It hums at his heart reassuringly, but desperately. 

_Whatever happens..., it’s not your fault.’ _

Klaus tries to hold the gaze as long as he could. He waits in hope to hear the voice again. But it doesn't come. The Prince lowers his head then, breaking the link and letting Klaus breathe out. His long locks hides his face from Klaus' sight as the footsteps of the Vampire ascends towards them.

Klaus watches the way the Prince breath out deep as well, unprotesting and gracefully patient to his limbs being tied to the unforgiving moonstone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is. Harry is alive. But what happens in the end will come back to play later.  
It's not his character introduction chapter yet. So you'll have to wait for that. See you next time...


	4. Barberian hospitalities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis hangs around the Resistant camp... And Zayn, the Prince of the Vampires, on the road to the capital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the part I had to break from the previous chapter because it was getting too long. This is bit more into the backstories, histories that needs absorbing for the characters.  
Warning: There are slavery, nudity and mentions of sexual acts here.

After the council bearings, the mood becomes much lighter in the Resistant camp. 

And Louis finds himself following Payne to another tent, Sebastian in his tow, and Payne's own guards following him close, because maybe they didn’t quite trust him. Louis Couldn’t blame them, he’s just a stranger to them anyway. But with the earlier dose of willingly offered warm blood, Louis knew he could be in control.

The tent must be Payne's own - it was obvious with the blue drapes and the armour bearing the crest of Larcoster lion.

Leaving Louis and Sebastian in the front compartment, Payne disappears behind drapes. Sebastian lets Louis stall by himself, standing by the entrance. The silver armour gleams with it’s smooth carving in the corner taking attention of anyone stepping in. Not bothering to look at Sebastian who watches him like a hawk. Louis spares a gaze around. Larcosters had been one of the richest families among human monarchy, before their kingdom was invaded and taken over by King Benedict. Louis wonders how much of those riches were left to inherit by Payne when he came to the picture. Perhaps a little more than the world knew, Louis thinks gazing at threaded velvet drapes and candle holders in gold etched with ruby and sapphires.

More than half of the space is taken by a table that had various maps and small wood carved pieces scattered over**. **Ambling closer he notices the pieces to be lions, wolves, daggers and trees. Though tempted, Louis doesn't try to pick any of it up. Instead, he fixes his attention on what looks like a plan of a castle. A castle fortress more like, build on an island surrounded by river water, with a stone bridge connecting it to the mainland. Doesn't take more than a glance for Louis to recognise what it is. Though he had never set foot in that place, it's hard to miss. There is only one palace in Great Lands built like that.

"Homas." Louis hears Payne say behind him.

He turns back to see him standing with arms bound back. His gaze is thoughtfully fixed on the map on the table. Payne steps closer next to Louis, sparing a look at the maps himself. Louis remembers the glimpses he saw in Payne's mind earlier amid the Lycans. The high born woman he saw - could it possibly be the Queen of fallen Homas?

"It's an extraordinary design. I've heard a lot of great things about it's Architecture. Have you been there yourself?" Louis decides to asks.

"Once... long time ago." Payne's reveals. "When they were a strong kingdom. Their late Queen Annilia Starlynson was an extraordinary woman. A great ruler with a strong but a kind heart." 

Louis can sense a line of regret in his tone as Payne speaks. Something closer to disappointment. "I might have not agreed with his ways, but with Malakai gone, the Resistance fell to it's knees. Scattered and weak. We couldn’t aid the Lycan Queen in her time of need, or protect what mattered to her most when the destruction struck. The world would have been a much different place if we didn't fail."

His eyes emanates sadness in his pensive. Louis wonders if Payne is talking about the Homas itself or the late Alpha Queens' offspring. “Didn’t the King appoint the Queen’s widow husband as the Lord Steward in Homas?” Louis wouldn't know for sure, all of it being dinner conversations among folks back at Hampshion. But Payne must have been known the late queen better that he led on. That much was clear.

Payne smiles bitter.

“He did. But Richard Starlynson's no Alpha. He’s not able to hold power or unite their people even if he wanted to. Benedict teared him of all his other titles and made him sit on the crown to humiliate the rest of their Alpha monarchy. Queen’s only heir, the Alpha prince Harold was whisked away at his young age. Some believed the Prince would be the one to unite the Lycan kingdoms to fight against the reign of your uncle. And he wanted to prove the rumours wrong. They say Benedict appointed the child Prince to the throne before taking him.” 

"Did the queen have any children other than her son?" Louis lets him ask.

"A daughter. Princess Gemmina. She's not an Alpha. Therefore, I think she did not impose as an immediate threat to the King Benedict. She's with Lord Richard under the guard in Homas." 

Louis nods. He never paid much attention to the hierarchy details or deviations of Lycan Alphas and Betas. Only thing he knew was that Alphas are headstrong, more dominant and violent... But it painted a tragic picture - for a family to be shattered in such a way, Royal or not. And a kingdom to be destroyed such a way, leaderless and dragged to ruination. Louis remembers the pain and loss in the Lycan noble Prendergast's words from earlier - and could feel the desperation in his eyes to fight for their lost land. No race deserves to be rendered defenceless, powerless and vulnerable - not Humans nor Lycans. 

Payne turns to Louis with an imploring stare.

"Fate of many things are connected to Klaus's mission, Louis. I cannot reveal with its details for your own safety, but it is important that Klaus leaves the city with or without competing the task." Payne presses, turning to Louis, bringing the hand he held at his back all this time. 

Rolled in his hand was a scroll, tied with a thread and bearing the seal of a rooted tree with four swirls of intertwined branches. The symbol taken by the council of Edgor the great, who originally assembled the band of white knights Louis was a part in centuries ago. Louis just stares at it before raising his eyes up to Payne's face.

"It is for Lord Rowland, he will aid you in anyway you requires him to if you hand him this." Payne assures. “There will be some potions from Taylor for you to carry. Some cloaking potions that will help you to be invisible among crowds and some sedating potions for Klaus if the worst happens.”

“You mean if we fail to get him out of the city before full moon?” Louis raises his brows. “An Alpha can’t be contained by a potion in the full moon! And the festivities end on the full moon day, which means the city will be packed that same night!” There would be no other option than to take him down if Klaus turns to his wolf form in the capital, Payne had to understand that, as same as the rest of these rebels. 

“That’s why we have to try and get him out soon. But this potion will work. It is a blend of Wolfbane and Vervain."

"Wolfbane and Vervain?" Louis stares at Payne with shock. "It would paralyze him, and kill him."

"Not if blended in right quantities and spell work, if taken the day before the full moon, not later. It had worked before.” Payne says sternly, as if assuring himself, though his concern is evident.

Louis finds him looking back at the scroll in Payne's hand, at it's red seal.

"If anything goes wrong, it's not only my head that I would lose... The King would hunt down my entire family, including my mother, for treason...family or not."

"Rowland can be trusted. He has been an ally to us for a long time. And he will trust you, and assist you the moment you hand this over to him." Payne repeats. "I guarantee you." He says with finality, holding the scroll for him. 

“You don’t know my uncle like I do. He’s devious. Unforgiving and ruthless when threatened. If Klaus is already captured, he will hold him until he has the chance to flush everyone involved, and kill him afterwards. He will break him until Klaus spills every bit of secret he knows. And I will be walking into nothing but a trap.”

“Nicklaus is an Alpha Lycan, Louis. He can't be broken. He is the only hope the race of Lycans have left. You once fought for justice as a white Knight Louis, unbiased, for the sake of goodness. Long time ago, as you say... I know. I’m not asking you to risk your life or your family’s for our cause. All I’m asking is to help us if there’s any chance for you to do it, while you are seeking your sister.” Payne sounds persistent, his imploring gaze staring at Louis’ unsure gaze. "James has been clear with me about your stand about the King, and his throne. You have an unquestionable claim to the throne that he sits, the throne he pretends to pass on to a foreign blooded pawn under his thumb. But you don't want it or it's power. But you know this reign of your uncle is not right. On race is better than the other, and no one should wheel a singular power over the kingdoms as he has been having. If your sister needs to be the reason for you to help us change something, let it be." 

Louis doesn't try to argue. The way Payne mentions of Felicity, makes him wonder if she had any involvement to the Resistance again. But he refrains from asking anything from Payne, taking the scroll from his hand.

Perhaps this is the most foolish thing he had done in this whole century. Not only he had met with the rebels, yet had sat in their camp surrounded by them, talking. And now, he's agreed to aid them without any assurance that he would get a scrap of solution about his sister's disappearance in exchange. It is madness in every measure he had ever known. But after reaching this far, he knew he would rather walk the rest of this parade than turn back.

When Louis returns back to the gathering tent with Sebastian again, the rest of the folk seem to have been invited back in.

The silence and suspense of the camp replaced a different kind of an energy much closer to merriment. Food and drinks were already served. Perhaps not the finest, but bread, meat, ale and wine - which is apparently enough to lift the air among the crowd. It is strange how they seem to just forget everything haunting or serious for a while and rejoice for absolutely no reason. And it was even stranger to Louis to see the mingle of different races… In a way it felt like going back in time for him, as if he had been taken to a century back when _ this _was a normality. Long before the wars and conflicts between the races. Whatever the spell Taylor Allison had puffed into the camp must be helping to keep the calm. The Humans, Vampires and even Lycans seem to drink and eat together as old friends, as if they are not being hunted by the King and his troops this very second.

Perhaps it all made sense - given the uncertainty of their very lives. Louis decides. 

Louis did not particularly need food - the same as the rest of his kin. And to be honest, cheap ale and cheap wine is something he would stay away from if he could help it. But there was something about this very set up, being among the free folk that made it more than tolerable. Resistance always had been looked upon as a blood sniffing radicals, fanatics who are chained to violence - not that the narrative pushed by the capital can be the absolute truth... Or perhaps things might have changed after Malakai, their past deranged Warlock leader. There seem to be even more people now than before.

"A sight to behold. Is it?" Sebastian says at Louis' awed expression as they walk through the crowd. His tone lacks the previous sourness. There seemed to be a change of attitude towards Louis from Payne's inner circle since the end of the meeting, though they didn’t fully trust his nature with Humans yet.. Especially from Sebastian. 

"You're welcome to hang around, get quenched in our _ barbaric _ hospitality ." Sebastian suggests. He seemed to have been given the task of accompanying him. Perhaps Payne is concerned of him among the full crowd of Lycans and Humans. Louis nods, noticing several of the folk around watching them... him, skeptically.

"Ale or wine? both might not catch up to the stranded of your elite tastes."

"I'm a Vampire, not an oaf. Wine... please."

Louis finds a seat in an empty corner near a fire. His instincts around Alpha Lycans are still not settled, unlike for Humans. He wonders how long it might have taken for these Vampires to get used to the scent of them. A week? Month? They don't seem to be affected by the presence of the Alphas. He tries his best to act neutral, despite his own taunted instincts shouting to stay away from their kind - or run. And to his relief, the Lycans seem to keep distance with him as well. Perhaps due to his family ties to the King. Even Pendagast, the Lycan noble of Homas manages a few courteous nods from afar. And Louis couldn’t be happier, until…

“_You _ are a _ Dagger _, aren't you?”

A gentle, skeptical voice asks, making Louis turn to his side to see a child staring at him with curious eyes. The girl had bright grey eyes margining on green and locks of dark brown hair. Non-threateningly, she is a Lycan, and by the look and tone, probably born in to noble blood.

He smiles. “My family name is Tomlin. But I do have a dagger in my family crest.” Pulling his sleeve up, Louis shows her his dagger ring. She eyes the object in his hand warily.

“So you _are_ related to the mad King, Benedict Mainac.” Her eyes scowls in a way Louis has to suppress his smile. “But your name is different?”

“My father didn’t like the name. So he let his brother and sister have the name all to their self and took the name of the area he preferred to live. Tomlin.” He explains in the simplest form without gouging into the stained family history.

The girl seem to think. He features were sharp and pointed. “So your father is mad King’s brother, the one who ran away with a Warlock princess? Princess Evelyn. The story is in the book _ Monarchy of Lanvish. _I’ve read it.”

Louis angles his head and smiles. “Have you now?”

“Your grandfather, the King of Lanvish - he killed Princess Evelyn out of spite. Because he didn’t approve of inter-factional unions, and he deemed the other races unworthy to mix. Your father never returned to Lanvish though he was the eldest and the true heir. He married your mother and stayed at Tomlin starting his own line.” she continues breathlessly as Louis keeps his stare indifferent. “He only returned to Lanvish after the mad King invited him to join his court after your grandfather was killed.”

“Greta.” 

A woman with hazel eyes and sharp features resembling the girl calls standing several feet away. She is clearly an Alpha, as same as the three behind her watching Louis with fire in their eyes. 

“Get back here at once!” her tone carried fear more than anger, Louis could feel it as his very thoughts fire up with their attention. 

The girl turns to leave, but looks back at him, “You don’t seem that bad.” 

Louis watch her go to the woman who puts an arm on her shoulder protectively, eyeing him dirty.

“I see you met Gretaline.” Sebastian cuts Louis’ stare match as he takes the free seat next to him. “Klaus’s daughter. She can be a handful”

“Klaus is married?” Louis asks, with something lifting from his clouded brain. But Sebastian scoffs.

“No. Helaine Marshall is just his daughter's mother.” he says, handing Louis his chalice, gesturing to the Lycan woman. 

Louis stares back at the Alpha crowd, Greta waves peeps out behind her mother who was having a conversation with another and smiles at him, her grey eyes shining.

“A child out of wedlock?” Louis mumbles taking a sip out of his cup furrowing his brows. “Thought they are bidding him for Lycan leadership.” Or at least that’s what he thought Payne meant.

“Bedding partners for them is the same as feeding for us. Simple and necessary. And offspring are a bonus, unless you are a Royal and expected to lead.” Sebastian stares at the crowd thoughtfully. “Doubt Klaus intended to lead anything in his life.” 

Louis leans back in his chair, watching the pack of Lycans scattered in the tent. Lycans had different mating practices than any of the other beings, probably stored in to them by their own nature - Louis is sure. But if the Lycans are looking for Klaus for leadership, the child would be a complication, unless Klaus marries this Helaine Marshall. What concerned Louis more was the connection Felicity might have had with Klaus. Was it friendship? Or anything more? His thoughts are absurd to the core, because there can never be a willing intimate connection between a Werewolf and a Vampire. It just won't do unless the Lycan is a timid Omega. Perhaps he’s paranoid with all this absurd Lycan talk and their strange mating practices. For immortal Vampires, mating is monogamous and pure. After coming of age, a Vampire had time until eternity to find the rightful mate. And when they do, it will be singular and lifelong. But the Lycans on the other hand would come of age only after they mate with their match - which included abominated sensual practices until they find their one… or sometimes even after, just for procreation. It’s no secret that they believed in carnal practices off matrimonial to create Alpha male offspring. Alpha males who would be worshipped for their masculinity or powers. And often their marriage unions were based on convenience of power, wealth, land or kingdoms, similar to Humans. It is such an absurdity, impure and low in the eyes of Vampires.

It would be impossible even to think Felicity had any admiration in that sense for this Klaus, right? 

As the night progressed, Taylor Alison, the witch, enchants a harp into playing some tune - and it was beautiful... as same as her.

Louis couldn’t stop staring at her as she moves to a corner sipping off a goblet as if she didn’t have anything to do with the magically playing harp. Payne and Pendagast were beside her, talking. But she doesn’t seem to be paying attention to them, conversing with the strange red headed Lycan Payne introduced as Sheeran, at the council before. The way she moves, smiles and behaves... her very demeanor shouts of a noble birth - though Louis couldn’t imagine how it’s even possible.

“Something that beautiful should definitely be broken in someway.”

Louis turns to see Sebastian, his eyes fixed on the same where Louis’ was a moment ago. There is a knowing smirk on his face and Louis couldn’t really guess what he had in his mind. Not that he felt bothered to find out.

“It’s not everyday you come across a highland witch these days. Never seen one in almost a century. What’s her story?” Louis asks, turning back to her.

Sebastian stares at the witch, his sharp eyes thoughtful and calculating.

“She’s the last of Elizious coven, birthed to the high priest, it is said. Homas protected the last of them, you know - Lycans always favoured warlocks.” His tone gets lower then,.

“The word is that she was betrothed to the one and only Prince of the high wolves when they were toddlers. They grew up together. When Homas fell, the Lyan nobles tried to save both the Prince and her. The princeling was captured, as you know, got taken to the capital. And the King killed anything that had any magic in their blood. Her family was probably burnt to death. But somehow the wolves managed to get her out. ”

Sebastian sighs his head down as Louis directs his eyes at the young witch who looked solemn in her seat.

“So, you my friend is looking at the witch who almost became the queen of noble highland wolves.” Sebastian’s voice sounds low, emotionless - probably hiding whatever in his mind. And as in a cue the witch looks up and a pair of blue sapphire eyes fall on Louis. For a moment Louis gazes right back, trying to read whatever’s in them. Challenge? Curiosity? Pain? Or anger? He couldn’t be sure… But he knew she couldn’t possibly hear them here. Can she?

He breaks the glance and looks at Sebastian. Can it all be true?

The monarchy of high wolves really considered mating their Alpha Prince with a witch? It sounds absurd… for one, to ruin a pure royal bloodline. And also to bring a Lycan, who definitely would be bound to his rightful soulmate later when he finds them. A marriage with a part human seem to be just a convenience. 

“Stay away from mentioning the princeling to her though. The wolves and the witch get touché at the subject. Can’t blame them when the Alpha heir turned Kings’ puppet took on a position at Germia’s court. It was a slap on their faces.”

“Homas’ Prince is in King’s court?” Louis couldn’t help asking. “An Alpha Lycan?”

Sebastian stares as if Louis is testing his humor. But when he realizes Louis was not, he sighs.

“You’ve been away from the world for too long clearly… and you are racing into something that might knock you off toes if you don’t thread carefully.” There is a strange bitterness in his tone. his eyes stares at Louis as if he waited to get it off his mind since long. Perhaps the dejection Louis had been feeling from him is not anything against him.

“One piece of advice - if you want to take it…” he continues as Louis just stares… “- stay away from the wolfie in the castle. He might look feisty or juvenile at first, but he’s as meticulous, cunning and manipulative as they come.”

Is it wise to speak of Lycans in this manner with this kind of an audience? Let alone their Prince? True that Sebastian said that there’s no love between the Prince and the resistance - yet… Louis just keep staring at him and he looks back at Louis as to face the obvious question - which is not what Louis asks.

“Duke of Rowland-” Louis says as Sebastian’s stare flickers, “- do you know him?”

Sebastian’s eyes widens, trying to find a connection. He tries to hide it but Louis could see tension in his face.

“What gives the idea?” he covers it well, looking away as if distracted by some other folk chatting aloud.

Louis just smirks. Seriously, could he be more obvious? Being around Humans and Wolves had clearly affected his guard.

“You. Just now. And I must have been away, but I’ve spent too long not to recognize a noble when I see one. You’ve served the King’s court as far as I can see.” 

Sebastian crosses his arms leaning to the side. “I did - years back. When I thought things made sense. But not anymore.” he sounds defensive if anything.

“I’m not here to pass judgment. I stayed away from it all as far as I could.” Louis tell him. “ I'd have to put up with the capital for two weeks. And once this is over I'd retire back to Hampshion to not come back ”

Louis tells him tiredly. And it was the truth.

…………………..

Miles away, in an opposite road leading to the capital, wagons and carriages of several festival goers had stopped in an exclusive inn to rest. Unlike usual rural taverns, the particular establishment is lavish and attracted the high and mighty travelling from afar to the Kings’ celebration ball, providing pampering services for their travel-weary bodies. It is far from the pleasure city of Damask, yet provided a taste of heavenly luxuries to the guests even during the short stays. 

Baths are one of its many prominent features. The ornamented ceiling and the warm, fountained stream in spacious marbled floored room had always been a customer favourite. But as for this day, it had been occupied by just three nobles who had requested it to be emptied of other occupiers, unless the slaves. With one of them being the Royal Prince and heir to the throne, Lord Zayn Javid Mainac, the managers had been more than willing to appease their needs. It is known that the Vampire Prince is on his way from Damask to the capital for the festival celebrations, a trip he makes yearly. And the owners of the establishment had been anticipating his arrival eagerly, hoping the Prince would grace them with his stay as same as he had done many times.

Inside the spacious bathing chamber, a yellow haired noble comes out of the water after a swim, dripping from his skin. He is strongly built and fit in his naked form, walking over to the marble seat with a headrest on side and wraps a silk cloth around his waist before laying on it, still dripping. The water is soothing, and scented. It had calmed his stiffened muscles from hours of the road.

“Ansel’s late at always.” he says, getting comfortable on the marble seat. Without leaning, he picks up sliced fruit off a tray held by a Lycan slave who remains still and head down. 

“Do you see me complaining, Dominic?” says another who was getting a massage in the seat next to him. His oiled skin glistens with warm oil as two slaves ran their fingers through his naked form. “More time here, the better. Ask Zayn.” He lets out a moan as a slave massages through a tight spot.

Dominic looks at Zayn who has his face buried in a book. He is still fully clothed, though he had come to the baths with them. Well, Zayn’s foul disposition is showing already as expected. It is normal in the grasp of the capital.

“Lighten up, Mainac... or you’ll kill the mood of the whole festival. The King won't be too happy. Fuck a few Lycans and let the steam out before you set off the King with your sulking.” He says to the black haired, olive skinned Vampire Prince laying on his side with eyes fixed on his pages.

The Prince looks effortlessly better looking and strong featured- though thinner- than the other two.

“Besides, we’re staying longer this time. Better make the most of it. The little mutt’s going to be there sniffing around anyway.”

Zayn spares a look at Dominic with a marginal frown. But he focuses back on his reading seeing the other drag the slave boy with the fruit tray to him by hair. The boy manages to place the tray on the floor with a miraculous reach with echoing sound, before attending to the noble’s loose waist cloth as directed.

“Mind something that matters, Dominic. ” Zayn says indifferently, eyes on his book.

Dominic leans back at the head of his seat, dragging the Lycan boy between his legs at his semi hardness, moaning as the slick, warm tongue touches his skin.

“If you say so.” He lets out a breathy sigh, gripping tighter at the slaves hair, lost in his pleasure.

The shameless moans fills the sound inside the bath ceasing the soothing sound of the water. Neither the Prince nor anyone else seem disturbed by any of it - or perhaps this is a common occurrence between these highborn. 

“Well the gossip is that there had been an attack.” the one getting the message, Montgomery, throws in without opening his eyes. “Apparently our favourite Lycan got knifed with wolfbane. Barely survived. They suspect the Resistant's involved. At least that's what I heard from the Lords I met at the diner.” He sounds impassive, yet there's a blur of satisfaction or anticipation under his tone.

Dominic hisses a laugh engulfed in his pleasures. “They finally tried to get rid of him? Wonder what look this long. Witless barbarians.”

There was a pause in the air with swift sounds of sucking and hands on oily skin. Zayn turns his page slower than usual.

“Tenth victory anniversary would have been quite a celebration if that happened. Ridding the trouble from all of the court. But his teeth biting at life is tight, apparently.” Montgomery spits as if there is something bitter in his tongue. "He acts like a docile mutt with the tail between legs around the King, but he's strong as an Ox... the dubious little cunt." 

Zayn clears his throat and glares at the inked pages without blinking.

“A scratch won't take him down, wolfbane or not. They'd need much more to do that.” His voice slightly shakes, but the other two were too drowned in their own pleasures to notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope the details and back stories are not too overwhelming. I know these kind of stories that need a bit of processing is not everyone's cup of tea. But not sure if anyone is actually reading this at all. If so, give me a shout out. Wondering if I should continue or not. Thanks!!


	5. The Capital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrivals at the capital. The first day of the celebrations finds Louis with many introductions and things unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there... this chapter got a bit delayed due to my work and travels. But hope the wait is worth it. And Have to give a shout out to everyone who commented in the last chapter!!! Thank you sooo much!! you'll are the reason I decided to keep posting.  
Also, please excuse any mistakes in the chapter, as I didn't have too long to do a proper check.

Zayn Mainac, the crown prince of Germia prowled through the grand stair-way in hasty strides. Two of his guards followed behind, trying to catch up.

The white marble floor and decorated gold either side reflected the prince's clearly troubled face as he takes several steps at a time. His high collar, dark overcoat and high boots indicated he just arrived at the castle of Germia. It is doubtful if he intended though, since he usually finds an excuse to delay the arrival until late night, to not to show his face in the grand opening feast of the five days of celebrations. As he finally reaches the wide passageway with the gold ornate ceiling and glittering torches, the castle guards and maids freeze, stepping back to give him the way, clearly stunned to see him after almost a year. Perhaps it is more surprising to see him in this particular floor, unannounced. 

The prince doesn't seem to care, or be aware of their amusement ... not bothered to spare a gaze at any of them. With same hurried strides, he passes an array of closed chambers and parlours, finally reaching a room with gilded doors. The two guards on the door hesitate at the site of the one approaching, clearly unsure if to open the doors or not. The prince spares them the trouble, pushing the heavy doors open without even pausing. He flounces in with the same force, face grave and reluctantly anxious.

"Where is he?" the prince demands at a maid coming from an inner room, who takes a double take seeing him.

The woman immediately bows, still trying to cover up her shock. "In the bath, my lord." the she mumbles, gesturing back where she came from, eyeing the prince and his guards timidly.

Zayn walks past her, directly into the bath with the two guards tagging along. As same as the chamber doors, Zayn pushes the door open unapologetically - shocking a handful of maids and servants at his intrusion, everyone who looks at him in stunned silence... everyone except one. 

In the glistening white porcelain wash tub, dipped with his back to the door, is the one he is unwillingly, but vigorously looking for. The grudging bane of his existence... Spike at his eye. Air in his lungs bursts at the sight of him, torturing the remaining life in him. In Zayn's year of absence, his hair had grown further past the shoulders, which is now matted into his head, soaked. The pale skin of his naked back above water shines against the flaming torches in the corners, lining the perfect body in the worst way. Unmarred and looking untouched, like a riped fruit ready to be devoured - even after the horrendous wounds he must have endured weeks back. Wouldn't be surprising if he had no remaining scars of it. He had been gravely wounded, bound to a sick bed for weeks - recovering, or so they told him. It is a miracle he's still alive, poisoned with wolfsbane. No Lycan would survive that, Alpha or not. And Zayn couldn't imagine what it would be if that was the case.

The water sloshes, making Zayn breathe harder with an anxious ache somewhere unreachable, untouchable. Zayn knows he is going to turn back and look at him even before he does. And it pains when he actually turns.

Wet, glistening skin... soaked, dark tangles of locks - sharp and sculptured profile, nose, lips and eyes - his green unforgiving eyes stare at Zayn curiously... Immediately followed by a shock at seeing him standing there. Their eyes meet briefly, but it is all Zayn could take. Bear to stand.

So he takes off without a gesture or marginally anything other than his own stunned silence - the same way he walked in, as the green eyes watched in shock. 

..............................

Two and a half days on the road finally brings Louis to the territories of the capital. There had not been enough time to go back to Hapmshion, so Louis had sent a message home to his mother and sisters through Toby - saying that something had come up and that he is travelling to the capital with Ellish. He assures that he'll be back within a week. His mother will be in a frenzy, he knew. But there was nothing he could do about it. Perhaps Lotts might be able to calm her down.

Louis had left the Resistant camp early next day after that night. Since he didn't bring much of anything to his two day journey, there was less to pack. As Payne promised, Taylor Allison had given him a stack of potions in a locked box. Some of them had a cloaking spell, which would hide his trace from the sharp Vampire scenting abilities - so he would be able to roam around in secret. Another stack had a detection spell - as she said, exposing anything Lycan within a considerable distance even if they've cloaked their scent, which Klaus surely would have. She seem to have bound it with blood magic to follow Klaus' scent specifically. Louis hides the box of potions deep in his luggage, knowing if discovered, it will be his death sentence. But not before pocketing a bottle of the detection potion so he would be ready the moment he steps in to the city.

The last time Louis set foot in Germia, it was nearly a half a century back.

But Louis was bred in that city, among the children of the noble and rich of all races - running around the trees, houses and castle walls…while his sisters breathed their first lumps of air inside its castle walls. He hoped he would be haunted with clouds of nostalgia - of his childhood and years of his adult life as the city got closer. But after all this time, everything he remembered seem to be fragments of his memories.

Nothing looked recognisable in the slightest. 

As they got closer, the villages and towns seem to grow larger - richer. The houses starts to grow extravagant in size and built, their gardens more beautiful. Not that the far village of Hampshion where he lives is any poor. But where Hampshions' rich lay silently and humbly with it’s rural picturesque nature, Germia and the combining cities seem to flash it like a grand spectacle. There were decorations everywhere - drapes, flowers, gold plated statues and what not. Everything and everyone seem to be getting ready for the festivities - to celebrate the victory for Vampires against all other races.

The high city now had a gate, a golden, high arched checkpoint to reveal the identity of anyone who goes in... or comes out. And Louis tenses inwardly as the carriage stops in front of the decorative metal gates. The carving on them seem to represent hierarchy of the factions, prompting the greatness of the Vampire clan, while demeaning the rest. It is nothing but a fitting mural on the current world order - the power and the privileges of the chosen race. Oppression and loss of liberty for the rest. An unapologetic display of power.

_The King's seal_ on the invitation makes the gates open without a delay, to his surprise- with directions to the arranged accommodations by the castle. As the carriage pulls in through the arch, Louis manages to gulp down half of Alison's potion, which mildly burns his throat and gives him a strange boost in his smell. But he doesn't get to dwell in the sensation long because the sight of the extraordinary city and the castle come to the view like a marvel. High pillars, stone gargoyles, beautiful facades and towers were everywhere - building to building. White stoned walls, fountains and marble statues seem to be of highlight corner to corner. But there was this ominous air about it no matter how exquisite everything looked. Something between sadness and dread that is present like a ghost from the past. Maybe it is just him... because for Louis, the memories of bloodshed and massacres buried behind all this is too fresh in his mind to be hidden under the colourful exteriors. 

Tonight is the opening night of the celebration, and there is a feast at the castle hosted by the King in the evening according to his invitation. And Louis wanted to rest and settle into his place for the next five days before facing the charade of the King's proponents and getting rained down by the capital's rich and noble.

It doesn’t take too long for them to arrive at the place, a dark toned stone mansion with a landscaped small front garden. It is smaller than Tomlin house in Hampshion, yet richly built. The mansion had a tower with a turret, a front courtyard and high grey brick walls. It's floors were wooden or dark emperador marble, and all the drapes were in blood red velvets. As his valets tend to the simple baggage, Louis enter into the house to meet maids who bows. They look well formal and grim. Louis was not sure if he'd been receptive to that kind of formality for a long time. Yaagine, the main house-maid tells him to consider this his own home for the week and that they would be at his command until he leaves.

"We can provide _fresh and willing slaves_ for your needs, my lord. There's an arranged viewing already, waiting for your call. But please let me know if there're any preferences or special requirements." she adds as if that is the most casual way to greet a noble into the house. 

Louis just stares. "Later." he manages to say while maintaining his pose. Perhaps it is, here in the capital. 

He walks around the mansion to find an ornate parlour with pillars and a fire place, a diner, a courtyard with a fountain and three private chambers. The four poster bed in the master room had red velvet bedding matching the red and dark blue drapes. And he checks to see the wardrobes full with rich attire, as Yaagine informs that they have been picked for him in various sizes since they were not sure about the fit... and that a seamstress would arrive soon to adjust them for him. Louis acknowledges her with just a nod, not knowing what to say. He decides to check them later, slightly baffled by the unexpected and unnecessary luxuries. 

He strolls around the house further to find a small library, a gallery with an attached equipped art studio. How thoughtful… does the castle accommodate all the invites in this manner? Louis couldn't help wondering. The gallery had a carved wooden door, and it housed some impressive paintings for a private collection that followed back to the past century. This place is clearly owned by someone who had knowledge on aesthetics and art, Louis was sure of it. One by one, he examines the framed paintings hanging on the walls - going through some familiar artefacts of renowned fellow artists. He must have lost the tack of time, he realises as a light knock comes through the open door. And he turns around to see a young nobleman standing by the door. Well, leaning on the wooden door frame, crossing his boots. Dressed in an embroidered black coat bearing the crest of a stag on his broach, he had a rare bright expression and short brown hair. 

“You must be Lord William of Tomlin.” his voice comes with a strong southern accent. “Hope your long journey won’t put you off the King's grand feast tonight.”

Looking at him, Louis could tell that he’s not a born Germian. Perhaps that was why he looked brighter than the maids or guards he met until now. Everyone here seemed to have cursed with grimness. ** **

“No. Not at all. It’s an experience to set foot the city after this long, Lord…?”

“Niall James of Horan.” he tells brightly walking towards me. “I serve the King’s court. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lord Tomlin. I’ve been an admirer of your works since I became aware of art. The King sends his greetings and would grant you an audience in coming days. He's occupied with all the festivities. I’m more than happy to show you around and accompany you until then, as the King requested.” He says with a little bow.

Meeting the King... Louis hadn't really thought about it until now. He wasn't really anticipating an audience with him. Different to his late duty bound brother, the King has to know that his son, Louis didn't share the same views politically. It had been ages since he last saw the King - or faced him. And the last time Louis spoke with him, it was to tell him that they were leaving the capital... and the King had not been that happy. But in the face of two family tragedies, nothing could change Louis or Johanna, Louis' mother's mind. And now after all this time, Louis couldn't help the irony of having to face him when he had been in the company of the rebellion just days back.

“I see you’ve already found the gallery, My Lord. Hope the mansion suits your preferences. If not I can search for another.” he says hesitantly as if he expected Louis to say otherwise.

“No. This is good. More than good actually. The collection is impressive.” Louis says, and his eyes shine bright.

“Glad it is, my lord. I was worried, with all your artistry. I didn’t know what you would prefer to be frank, Lord William.”

“Louis, please.” he tells him with a smile. “I like to keep it simple. Well, works from Mongrove and Telis… That’s impressive enough” Louis says pointing at two extraordinary paintings hung on the wall. “And I’m a village man, Lord Horan. Doesn’t take much to impress me. Not like you city folk with expensive tastes.”

He walks closer with a grin.

“Well to tell a secret, I’m originally from Gallegar myself. But you must have noticed. Most living here are from somewhere else, if you ask me - though they like to pretend they are not. All my years here, nothing beats the view of the sun rising through the barley fields back home, you know. the peace. It’s nothing these city folk would understand.”

_Niall_, as he insists Louis to call him, must be the most light hearted one Louis had met in his whole long life. Maybe the reason is that he had not seen the grims so many of immortals had lived through in our long years. He is barely thirty, and had only reached his age some five years back as he tells Louis - meaning Niall is actually so much younger than even Louis' sisters. Brother to the first in command to the castle guard and a knight in King's army, Gerald de Horan, Niall is a solicitor in practice, so he tells Louis. And with everything he talks, Louis gets the idea that Niall is well connected with the King's courtiers, despite his age - probably due to his brother who seem to be a one in the inner circle to the regency. And if he is to accommodate Louis' stay, he would have far less trouble finding the Duke of Rowland … his thoughts whispers to him in the back of his head. 

“Speaking of barley fields, I’ve noticed that one the moment I stepped in.” Louis points him the magnificent art piece hanging on a side, not entirely sure it would meen anything to him or not. The piece is way off his time actually - it was an ancient, a _problematic_ ancient, praised and criticized among artist’s circles alike. A painting of the legendary controversial artist, Alexander Vancoyer.

It’s a smooth, erotic painting of a woman in a field staring at a wolf in a moonlight. Sleek dark hair, glassy blue eyes and pale perfect features shining through her dress - the woman is unmistakably an immortal Vampire. But her stealthy stance and the warm gaze marks nothing but affection for the wolf facing her. It is said the the painting depicted forbidden love - an impossible love. The extraordinary painting was done centuries ago, in a time that Lycans and Vampires lived across borders with mutually respectful distance. What is interesting is that ‘Vancoyer’ the hailed artist of all time with so many controversial artworks was in fact a Lycan. Louis had met him several times - so long ago, before he and family went deep into the rural Hampshion. And later, when war flaming up, Louis heard that the hailed artist was hunted down by the new Vampire order, who considered him a threat - a schismatic and a heretic. His renown art were all burnt down, destroyed in the war to his knowledge. And to see a one here, - a one that was famous and worthy of attention by the art scholars - in the heart of Germia out of the blue, Louis was not sure how that is even possible. 

“Ahh… art meet friction. Vancoyer.” Niall says eyeing the painting with and awe. And Louis cannot help but be impressed.

“All the Vancoyers in the city sits in this house - all the ones that’s left I guess. War Trophies from Homas, so I’ve been told. The owner of this house used to admire his work a lot” he says thoughtfully, eyes still on the paining. “Everyone’s even forgotten these are here now a days, because no one really comes to the gallery. Would you like to see more?”

He asks excitedly then, walking towards a small wooden door to the side that opens to a possible storage room. Horan picks one of the lit torches from the wall as he steps in. And Louis follows without much of a choice. Lit by the yellow flame, dusty and dirty with cobwebs, the room doesn't seem to have been touched for years. The moment Louis steps in, something strange catches his nose... adding over the thick fume of dust and old wood. Something faint but blatantly obvious in scent. _Lycan._

Louis' eyes shoots to Horan, to see if he sensed it too. But he seems quite oblivious to whatever Louis' nose is picking - which makes him remember about the potion he gulped some hour or two back.

_Does this mean Klaus is anywhere near by? or did he happen to be around here recently by any chance?_ this close to the palace? to the soldiers? the King and his court? Something feels off about it to Louis in a whiff. He needs to search this place... soon. But, Louis obviously will have to wait until he's alone... because Niall starts pulling out a stack of frames from a corner, whooshing dust. And there on a dirty old table, stacked one upon another were abandoned, lost art treasures... Several Vancoyers, at least seven among the others. The controversial, bold paintings that the King's regime rendered a threat to their ideology and values. Louis has no idea who hid them here or how this lad came across these, but the collection is something to behold.

Horan seem to have a good knowledge on Vancoyer's work above the others, Louis realises as he speaks of them excitedly, trying to interpret the meanings behind the strokes of paint. For a one living in Germia, the heart of Vampire reign which had no place for any other race or division, Niall de Horan surprises Louis. With his clear ties to the castle and the court, being in the inner circle to have access to the King, his eagerness on speaking about the subject of Lycans was made him wonder if things have changed around here for better. Maybe the words Lycan or Homas weren’t taboos anymore as it was. Louis thinks, moving the dusty frames to get a better look at the other works hidden here. And one of the painting catches his eye... A painting of a face - half a face because the main subject was eyes. Green and doe-like, looking afar. The person must be laying on something lush, because there's patches of green strokes - and their face rested behind the arm, with a lock of hair falling over. It was beautiful in a glance, and an emotional painting if anything. The painter must surely have been in love. There was no signing or any indication of the artist and the technique couldn't be matched with anyone's Louis had come across. But compared to other's here, the paining should be a recent. 

"Oh... errm. Didn't spot that here." Horan says after peeking in to see what had caught Louis' interest with a hesitance. He looks taken aback for some reason. "Must have missed" he mumbles to himself, going back to the stack of dusty paintings. He drags out another from a famous artist with such an interest, clearly trying to direct Louis' attention. Though now curious of the anonymous piece, Louis doesn't push, letting the lad have his way. 

After spending some more time in the gallery, they both get served refreshments by Yaagine, a mix of fine wine and few days old thickened blood. The city's storages had called for an excess of supplies from all over the country for the festival so there won't be any shortages of blood for next week, Louis finds from Horan who's family seem to own farms in far south. Horan doesn't shy away talking about the farms and his family fortune, unlike Louis. Perhaps the reason is that for the later generations like his, the Human farms are nothing but a normality. Because they were born into a world where Humans belonged in cages and chains, compelled to supply their blood for Vampires by right.

Niall soon leaves the mansion with a promise to meet Louis in the feast within few hours. And finally by himself, Louis goes back into the storage room in the gallery to look for anything that might have alerted his senses earlier. He finds that the scent he's detecting is stronger in a old cupboard fixed to the wall. An empty cupboard with no shelves inside, which is strange because it seemed useless in a place like this. He takes a deeper breath..., _maybe Klaus was here recently for whatever absurdity, hid in this congested space of a cupboard somehow..._** **But then he realises something else. Something different to the smell. _The sound_. The wall behind the cupboard … it doesn't sound solid. Louis could practically hear the air in the void from the other side. He knocks to test, to hear it vibrate the wood - carrying it further rather than bouncing back. Yes, definitely a void. Just by instinct, Louis tries moving the back of the cupboard, pushing, pulling and flipping. It doesn't budge at first. But after few attempts, he realises that the board of wood slides to the left, revealing a surprise stairway up. The scent that had been reeling Louis' senses seem to come down through the stairway. the steps seem to go a long way up that he couldn't see an edge or where it leads to. For a second, Louis almost considers taking the way up. But then he realises it is better to wait... maybe until late tonight. Because the last thing he wanted was to Niall coming here to see why Louis hadn't shown up at the King's feast.

When Louis returns to the chamber to get dressed, Radel, one of the house servants was already waiting to assist him. With a small acknowledgement, Louis dives into his bags to find something suitable. He hadn't packed anything much in his small luggage, so it was going to be a challenge. But as he picks up the only suitable thing from there, a dark green tunic and a matching coat, Radel clears the throat slightly.

“Not to disagree or disregard your preference my lord, but the nobles would preferably keep to the colour code black and gold, colours of the house Mainac. The colour code is especially for tonight at the feast.”

He bows apologetically as Louis stares at him. Black and gold? Wearing livery is for the fucking army. Who demands the rest to wear uniforms for a feast?

“The noble attendees would specifically keep to the colours tonight.” Radel says looking at Louis nervously, as if it was of utter importance. “- to announce their allegiance to the King and the high court.”

“I’m not from here, Radel. I didn’t bring anything explicitly black or gold.”

Radel bows again. “Lord Horan hand picked everything in the wardrobe, my lord. Especially the coats and jewels. Maybe you could try some of them?” he asks expectantly. 

Louis sighs. This is ridiculous. Lottie would probably laugh if she was here... being nagged about bloody robes and boots. Not wanting to fuss over this though, Louis turns to the overly large cupboard. And it doesn't take much time for him to pick a black outer coat with a gold embroidered borders. It felt stupid to pay this much attention to something irrelevant when there were thousand things running inside his head.

But the moment Louis enters the great castle basilica he makes a mental note to thank Radel. Because the feast attendees, in their over rich and expensive clothes maintained a one colour combination - Black and gold. Had he worn the green coat, he would have stood out like a blot on a landscape. It seemed insane, the means of keeping to colour cords like a set of soldiers, but the atmosphere it set is exquisite and breathtaking. The long, ample great hall with high roofs are all decorated with black and gold drapes with gold crystal chandeliers that hung all the way to the other end of the apse where the high table for the King and the royals were set. The tables for the prestigious guests were set in the nave with an aisle in the middle from the grand doors.

The King had not graced the feast yet, but the lords and ladies of high and rich Vampire clans glided along the hall like something of a fantasy and a blowout of riches. Louis walks into this new order of nobles and their flare of extraordinary wealth with a mixture of awe and weariness. The flash of their shine seem to meddle with everything that Louis heard about the ceremony from the Resistance. Where their words haunted by the defeat unjust and oppression, the atmosphere here is obvious opposite… a celebration and victory.

Having been away from this society and the new world order, Louis hardly knew anyone in the hall. He had nothing to do with groups of elites who gazed at him with either interest or curiosity or neither. Perhaps he should have asked Niall to accompany him and save him from the awkward walking in. Calling a waiter carrying a golden tray with goblets, Louis picks up a cup with unmixed blood. Probably a day old stock, he realises as the fresh smell hits him before he even takes a sip.

“Down to business from the start. No time to lose it seems, Lord?” a noble with a furry black coat comments, approaching Louis with a steely shorter woman by his arm. She stares at Louis sceptically, as if she could measure up his status just through his attire. 

“Why waste time when you can quench the thirst sooner? You won’t have to worry later when you are in better company.” Louis say raising the cup.

“Lady Camellia Grante of Halle,’ he introduces the woman as she nods slightly, still her face in a expression of privilege… as if it is rather odd that there was someone she did not recognise in the crowd.. “And Hendrik of Cardille at your service” He says with a small bow from his head. 

“William Louis of Tomlin, it’s a pleasure.” 

“Lord William of Tomlin, as in his Majesty the King's’ nephew?” The woman gapes, her face changing in to warm tenderness as the man, Hendrick looks between bewildered. 

“The famous artist who left Germia to focus on painting rather than politics?” her face lines amazement and delight. It is a strange reaction from a one Louis hardly knew. And by the look, it is doubtful if she had any interest in the craft of art.

“Sounds about right, lady Camellia.” Louis smiles lightly, taking a sip from the goblet, keeping neutral. The warm liquid slips down his throat with a familiar rush. His vision sharpens and the sounds around him becomes louder - even the murmurs. 

"It is such a pleasure, my lord. Sarah mentioned me of your presence, but you have never joined us here in Germia before. Hope your stay is pleasant.” she yaps. “My brother’s fiancée spent five thousand in rubies for a one of your pieces some weeks back in an auction, and she says it’s worth it because it was all her friends could talk about for weeks. It is such a pleasure indeed my Lord. It is an honour."

"The King must be delighted to have you here.” Hendrik adds in with a deeper bow this time as the woman steps closer.

“The honour is all mine.” Louis replies morbidly as several heads look towards him with interest - surely hearing the introductions. “I’ve been away for long. It’s a pleasure to acquaint.” Why didn’t he ask Niall to be spared with these kind of small talk?

“Tomorrow night’s festivities are in the gardens. Food, drinks, lanterns and fireworks. All the tents have been auctioned already but our camp has plenty of space. You should join us tomorrow my lord. It would be enormous fun.” Lady Camellia asks hopefully. 

Hendrik clears his throat hesitantly. “My lady, Lord William must be invited elsewhere already. The King rarely attends the second day, but he might even make an exception.” Hendrik sounds apologetic.

“No harm in gracing us with your presence… at least for a shorter time. My ladies would be marvelled to have you for sure. We've arranged for the best of entertainment this time” Lady Camellia presses, her eyes fanning. And Louis had no way to refuse, though he felt he could hardly bare such a company. He almost starts to nod in reluctance when suddenly the horns of the entrance blows in full sound, making him turn to the grand doors as same as each and every head in the great hall.

The enormous golden doors throw open as the royal guard wearing the gold and black livery and the crest of the house Mainac lines the middle aisle for the King’s entrance to the hall with his prestigious clan. The entire basilica stands still in anticipation as the horns blow out, deafening the ears in their heightened senses. And Louis wasn't sure if the scent he catches among the crowd was normal or not - because everything seem to become overwhelming suddenly. The group steps in though the large doors, trailing banner-men of fourteen kingdoms owned by the King, their flags re-coloured in the Mainac black and gold. The King and the courtiers followed, emanated prestige and undefeatable power with each step they took. The King Benedict had only changed a little through all these years, Louis notices, perhaps grimmer and more intimidating in his tall, built demeaner. But above all, at very first glance, the immediate stand out of the group is not of the King - dressed in acute black and thick gold embroidery... but an unmistakable scarlet. Someone who walks beside the King to his left, few steps behind. 

It was not as if Louis wasn’t anticipating to see the King, the embodiment of power and ruthless tyranny, his father’s brother whom he last met nearly a half a century back. But the obvious stand out in the colour takes his attention. Standing in the right mid section of the nave closer to the aisle, Louis had a clear view of the group. The closer they got, his eyes fixes on the scarlet, gold and black - a somewhat familiar scent catching his notice. The person's stare was steadily directed to the floor, blocking any chance of getting a glimpse at his face, though his posture is straight. He was a strange one with long, dark hair - tall, lanky... and there was something about him that made anyone stare, even from the distant. And when the group gets nearer, it hits Louis why. 

He’s a _Lycan._

“Is that…” someone closer to him asks. 

“It is. Who else would dress in red today if not for him?”

Louis doesn’t try to look up to find the whisperers. He glances at Lady Camellia who stands beside him with her eyes locked at the red coat as so many others.

“He looks dashing.” A third female enters to the whispering match . “Who would have known? I thought he would be in chains, stuck in some dark dungeon.”

The second one scoffs under her breath. “What, have you been under a rock? He's the most privileged Lycan alive. Travels with the King almost everywhere. He was even granted a Lordship, I’m not sure what.” her voice grows lower even but Louis couldn’t block the voices even if he wanted to. “He's the King's ward, but some go so far as to call him the King’s consort. It’s all hushed, but I have my inside sources.” 

“Pardon me... this is my first time in the feast... but Oooh.. Is that safe though… like, he looks fine and all - I know… but he’s a Lycan? Nothing but an animal, right? At least once a month.” 

“Shhhhh….”

The women quietens and Louis just watches as the King and the group reach the high chairs as the horns blend in to silence after a full blow. The King’s escort stands behind him as the King turns, staring at the crowd. The entire hall rings in silence for a moment as the crowd bows down to the King - Louis follows. 

“Guests from other lands, nobles and Germians,” the King addresses as the crowd raise up to him again. “Behind you are the days of uncertainty, war and unrest. This victory we celebrate each year is to remind you that there’s not race better- no race greater, noble and courageous than the great Vampire race. We conquered this world! and now, the world serves it’s rightful master… strength, wisdom and power. This day, remember, once again that we are the righteous, one true race of this world - one true masters. Remember!!!”

The hails of the crowd was deafening as the King raises his hand as if to bless the noble clan of good fortune. “Let the night begin!” The King announces.

The music starts playing again as the King and the clan settle in their high seats. And unsurprisingly the Lycan prince stands out amid the crowd like some bloody mascot of the celebration in red. Had he ignored the colour code deliberately? What kind of an egotistical bastard would do such a thing? He must be either dumb or raving mad to draw this kind of attention to himself in such a day. Louis remembers Sebastian’s warning to stay away from him for whatever the reason.

Someone clears the throat lightly beside him, cutting Louis' line of thoughts. He turns to see no one other than Lady Camellia's expectant smile.

“So, what do you say my lord William?” her voice rings. “Would you care to join us tomorrow?” she flickers her lashes hopefully, again. The crowd around was already setting down in their tables.

“I - umm...” Louis stammers - but not for long as he hears someone calling his name.

“Lord Louis! Louis! There you are!!” a cheering voice comes from behind and Louis turns to see a familiar blond face. Niall, in a black embroidered tunic with a golden hemmed long coat and lapels. strolling towards him. He shakes his head with a sort of knowing smile and Louis couldn’t say he’d be happier to see anyone else since he set foot in Germia.

“I’ve been searching for you all over. Thought you might be running late. But then I spotted you here. Our tables are set in the front.” he says, eyeing the couple who stares between them. 

“It was delightful to engage, Lady Camellia and Lord.” Louis says politely, hurrying towards Niall who nods at them dutifully. 

“It’s pleasure…” Lady Camellia says, clearly disappointed.

** **

Glad to get off, Louis shakes his head as Niall raises his brows walking with him towards the front.

“Here I let you off for a hour and you walk into them? Absolute show-offs. Won’t be surprised if they go around honking that they are best pals with the King’s nephew now.”

Louis chuckles. “Didn’t realize the connection would earn me status.”

“Oh.. you’ll be surprised, lord.”

Niall directs him to the first row of tables. And seats were right at the front, facing the head table. Niall introduces Louis to the table of nobles, including one of his close friends, Jeffory of Azoff, a young Count with a fine inheritance. Apart from Niall and Jeffory, the rest of the table were of considerable age. Some even older than Louis. Many of them have come from afar, and the rest were high rankers of the court - but each and every one of them had something of common. They were the richest of the rich and yield power over considerable amount of land, industries wealth. Maybe the rich had a thing for art and time to stare at them, because most of them seem to have knowledge in aesthetics... so it was easier for Louis to engage in small talk. 

Sat facing the high platform, Louis couldn’t help gazing at the head table in between conversations. There seem to be few unoccupied seats and one left to the King was more noticeable than the others. Everyone there seem to be in the highest positions in King’s court, with their extravagant outfits and high held features. The King seem to be quite engaged in a conversation with someone to his right - someone dressed in complete velvet black and a hood. Louis couldn’t really see the person under the shadow of his hood. Instead he had a clear view of the unmistakable Lycan Prince in lavish red.

Sat between two nobles, he was quite handsome - perhaps even uncharacteristically so for an Alpha Lycan. His skin is very fair, as pale as of a Vampire. And his long wavy curls of hair was shiny and dark while his angular face featured a sharpness that is rare to see. Beyond any of that, his eyes seemed intimidating even to this far, shaped with angled dark brows. For an instant, Louis was sure he had seen him somewhere - his face looked oddly familiar… And then he remembers where. Louis had seen that face in a younger form in Payne's memories when he dived into his head. 

The Lycan Prince rarely seem to spare a gaze beyond the table. He did engage with some who sat with him but clearly not everyone. Maybe it is the colour he wore, or maybe it’s just the way he held himself different to others. But something made him stand out there among all - even the King, despite his throne. There is a spiking irony in the situation of him sitting there among some powerful Vampires… singled out like a spot of blood on snow, joined in to celebrate the fall of his own kind. Looking at him, Louis' mind easily draws the faces of his supposed betrothed, the highland Witch Taylor Alison, and the Lycan noble Adam de Prendergast... even Payne, the heir of Larcoster. It seem hard to make a connection between the royal Alpha sitting up there sheltered by King’s court, and the ones Louis met in that strange camp a night ago. 

Perhaps anyone can’t - because as far as he knew, the Lycan prince had been here since the fall of Homas, which is a decade ago. He must have been really young when things took place, and it won’t be a surprise if he had no connection to his past anymore.

** **

The evening rolls out to be quiet prim and proper for the most part. Elegant and prestigious. It was all entertaining for the most part. The crowd seem to indulge in the rich hospitalities with no sense of time. Apart from an uncountable variations of extraordinary food and drinks - music and much chatter, there were performances - singing, music and even dance play acts. Most of them depicted some story of war or victory of the kingdom. 

“This is the last one.” Niall says beside me, helping himself to some fine poke ribs as the red, gold furred costume clad dancers start on the floor. They were wearing long nails… and gold snouts. “The King would usually retire after this. All formalities done and the dancing begins.” Niall adds, shoving a mouthful to his mouth without even looking at the performers. Something tells Louis he is not looking forward to the act.

Louis just spares him a glance, turning his head back to the dancers who are now joined with the signature black clad Germian warriors with their silver golden swords and bows. No one would need much explanation to realize the act was depicting the _final war at Homas_. It is an intense act - even the music, which bellowed and echoed through the entire hall. The moves of dancers were rather exotic, sensual - quite strange for an war act, Louis found. But it is also stealthy and ferocious, almost savage as they followed the choreography through feral fight scenes between Wolves and Vampires. It’s not a theatre, but a considerable number of guests seem to be captivated by the show, unlike Niall - gathering around the performing floor. On the head table, all eyes were on the performance as well. LouisI couldn’t help notice that the Lycan Prince is watching as well.

Leaned on his chair with his jaw set on the knuckles, he actually had a marginal smirk on his face, but apart from that he looked almost bored - and Louis wasn’t sure what to read from that.

The last part of the act was the victory of Germia and the beheading of the Queen of Homas. The the female dancer playing the queen danced in shackles with her black shiny hair loose. Her golden metal snout had long red teeth that gave her a look of a untamed vicious demon. She danced savagely as the black clad warriors pulled and rolled her around their arms, finally dragging her down and depicting to cut her throat by a silver sword - to which she fell down, finally defeated and beheaded. The music roared loud and hard... coming to an ear mocking applauding end.

The cheers echoing through the hall are almost painful to the ears. And Louis held his breathing.

It looked vicious and cruel more than anything - so much so that Louis couldn’t help stealing a glance at the Lycan prince. This only Alpha child of the late queen, the queen who they depicted as a ferocious beast - which Louis had seen not to be the case - and cut down like she was the thing standing between light and dark. Why would he be sitting there giving audience to such brutality? 

How could anyone be merciless to request him to?

But the Lycan Prince's gaze, fixed on the fallen dancer, looked devoid of emotion in every bit. And he seem to be nibbling on an apple in his hand as if no care in the world - munching on it.

And his evident ignorance shocks Louis if anything. Was Sebasthian telling the truth when he said the Lycan Prince betrayed his kind? Had the King really managed to take him in to his side? The only Alpha alive with rightful royal blood in his veins? Had Louis' uncle, the King had really managed to wipe out the entire line of Lycans by turning this kid to some spoiled noble in his own court?

The very thought was too heavy to process in Louis' head.

The cheers and applause lasted until the performers left the floor. Then the music started blending into a much merrier sound as the chatter started to break out again. True to Niall’s words, The King quietly retired off the hall … and with him, more of his clan. Crowd seem to engage in dancing, drinking and chatting... the mood of the entire hall is as high as the sky. For Louis, he hasn’t seen such a big gathering of people lost in such a buoyant set up in a long time. In an ironic way, it reminded him of the night at the Resistant camp several days ago. This is so much the same - of them, the free souls celebrating their gathering, but at the same time with such a contrast from food to music to the extravagance to everything else. With the thoughts on Resistant camp, Louis finds himself looking at the endless crowd. Somewhere in this throng of people, probably chatting away with someone or sipping the best off a goblet, should be the Duke of Rowland he should be searching for. He was sure of it. He had yet to think of a way to find him. And randomly asking around of a ‘Duke of Rowland’ seem absurd... and even risky at this point. So when Niall and Jeffory invite him to join with them for meet and greets, Louis goes willingly - thinking that a random chance at least might bring out a mention.

Niall seem to be quite known among many circles - even well liked. Jeffory on the other hand, as Louis notices, is the quiet type, letting Niall lead the way. Perhaps it is because of Niall’s brother’s position in the army as the second in command, or maybe it’s because of his own future status as a solicitor and a member of court himself. But if anything, Niall seemed causally connected. But unfortunately for Louis, the remaining gathering on the floor seems to be mostly outsiders to the castle. There were less lords of the court as there could be. Perhaps only the ones who wanted to hang around for the drinks. Louis points the fact to Niall after talking hours to an owner of some few dozen merchant ships around the seas. 

“Yeah, they take off to their own in the first day, only hang around until the King leaves. The garden party for next two days they should look forward to. It’s so much better and entertaining.”

“So I’ve heard.” Louis says remembering Lady Camellia’s words. 

“The King doesn’t attend. So it goes all out crazy.” Niall lowers his voice as Jeffory smirks. “There's decorated tents, and in them a lot of pleasing _things_," he says sheepishly, "-that would not be there unless it’s those particular three days, you know?”

“things?” Louis asks with a raised brow.

“Entertainment and... things. Whatever’s preferred.” Jeffory adds with a laugh.

Seriously, what are these kids up to? Louis wonders.

“There will be more nobles, lords and ladies of the court at their ease. I’ve secured your place in our tent already.” Niall says.

“Oh? I’m relieved. Otherwise I would need to have considered Lady Camellia’s invitation to join theirs.”

Niall snorts. “The King would have my head. Besides, I feel I'll be preferring your company than some that would turn up tomorrow.”

Louis hisses a smile. “Who? Someone I should know?”

“Doubtful. The leeches. Hangs around Javid as if the lad could not survive without him. Have you met Jarvid by the way? Technically he’s related to you.”

“Jarvid?”

“Zayn perhaps then. Son of lady Thrisha Mainac, King's late cousin... and her husband. Zayn Jarvid of Mainic, the one and only Crown Prince." Niall looks at the almost empty head table. "He should have been in the feast today. Doubt if he even arrived at Germia yet, probably caught up celebrating with his gang on his way. King was not happy.”

“Sounds like the typical prodigal son” Louis says impassively, carful not to convey any prejudice even mistakenly. Sure, he had heard of King's adopted son. 

Niall huffs. “He can be, when he’s in mood. He has a terrible taste when it comes to people. Or maybe he just enjoys setting people off. One can never tell with him. But you’ll like him. Used to be quite an artist when I first met him. Haven’t seen him almost in a year I think.”

“MmmHm,” Jeffory adds, “All of Kings efforts to make him stay longer in Germia fails every time. King adores him, yet he slips away, the little snake Prince.”

Louis isn’t sure Jeffory calling him a snake prince means something else or not. He ignore it as Niall lets it slip. Crowned prince or not, a blood relative he haven’t quiet met. Louis wasn’t expecting to meet this part of his family when he agreed to come. But it was strange the King would let the Crown Prince wander away if he’s any close to him.

“He doesn’t live in Germia?” 

“No, he slips away to Damask whenever he could. I don’t blame him. He’s a free soul, but King means to trap him in court.”

Damask was the city of entertainment. Everything canal, vulgar and lavish at its extreme. It had been for centuries. It’s the city that never sleeps nor has any ethics. There were no good or bad, races or status - if you had money to spend, there’s nothing under the sun you wouldn’t get there. In his long life, Louis been to the city several times… but never being able to reside there for more than a week. The heights of all pleasures could cause exhaustion if it become continuous, that is for sure.

“Germia and Damask - what a hard choice, eh?” Louis says despite, and the other two laugh. 

Jeffory however stops short, looking behind Louis' shoulder. And Niall follows his gaze, making Louis turn to look back. 

Passing their way is the Lycan prince - probably retiring for the night as same as the rest of the most nobles. He had a guard of four, two in front of him and two behind. And another black clad one few steps behind him - who looked more like his personal protector - a much taller Soldier with a long bony face, quiffed hair and a stoic expression. Well if anyone is a Lycan around here in this den of Vampires, they would need all the protection they could get. Louis thinks, noticing how all eyes around are turing with his each step. The Lycan avoids looking at anything or anyone it seems, holding his head up and nowhere particular, shining unnecessarily in his scarlet attire. His expression stuck is sort of a scowl. 

And then, the unexpected happens - (or the expected). His eyes brush over the side they are in, and his gaze catches Niall... his face becomes lighter for an instant. 

As he and the clan draws near, Louis could see how handsome he is… well, the word handsome wouldn’t even do justice. Green, deep noticeable eyes with perfect, smooth, curled locks of hair, full bow lips and sculptured face. He practically looked art-worthy... one of those rare beautiful creatures Louis ever seen. How can a Lycan possess such features? But the high held head, the expression on his face - Louis could guess the type regardless the race. Self-absorbed, pompous and over estimated confidence. Not bad for a Lycan among the Vampires. 

Distracting Louis' thoughts, he halts in front of Niall, and so does his guard. Jeffrey resorts to a head bow, nervously, which the Prince returns effortlessly, not even brushing his eyes on Louis for a second.

“Taking off as the rest, I see.” Niall says casually with a smile. 

"It smells." The Prince complains with a raised brow and a morbid face, as if Niall was the reason for his irritation. His voice comes out quite deeper than Louis expects it to. And slower.

Niall scoffs and a small tight lipped smile draws on his face, with a sign of dimples on cheeks - he almost looks childlike for a second. But the smile goes down as it comes, returning his morbid expression.

“Tomorrow’s a late night. I rather rest.” 

Niall shoots him a strange grim look. A hesitant moment of silence pass before he speaks. “How are you holding, Harry?”

The concern in Niall's voice is evident even in that low form. Does this mean that this all light hearted kid is friends with the Lycan? Louis wonders

“Fine." The Prince shrugs in an obvious way... and then bends closer to Nialls' ear as if to hug. "Shouldn’t I be?” His tone comes between ominous and daring for some strange reason for Louis, who stands close. 

The Princeling winks then, before turning to leave just like that without further ado. The Prince’s personal guard gives Niall a little bow as he passes. “Grimshaw” Niall acknowledges, quietly. 

The groups leaves as Niall turns back to Louis, and Jeffory who was following Prince with his gaze. Niall looks rather grim this time - devoid of his light nature.

“That's -” Louis starts, even if it is way obvious.

“Yeah,” Niall says looking at the Prince’s leaving form - his voice grim and troubled for some reason.

“The Prince of Homas… Harry, _ Harold Edward De Starlinson. The ward of the King_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's that. Finally we have Harry. And I know some of you might be a bit confused of Zayn's character... well that's intended. :)  
Love to hear any thoughts or predictions. Until the next update...


	6. The Ward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The other side of the table... and Louis pays into his curiosity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So really sorry for getting this late with this particular chapter. I was travelling and hardly had time to type a word with all the distractions. Finally back now so I'll try to be better with updates. My issue is I don't post until I get it to the point I like. So excuse me for that. Anyways, this chapter is a little more angsty than the previous ones I think... and so will the coming chapters are going to be. It taps around angst and abuse but for now doesn't really step on it. But I will warn when it does.  
Again, thanks you sooo much for everyone who commented and gave kudos! you are the reason I'm continuing… Hope this will make up for the delay.  
Happy reading!!!

_ “You’ll be just fine” _was what Gintal, Harry’s maid told him as she watched them dress him in scarlet. She was probably trying to convince herself than anyone else. He wanted to believe her words more than anything, but he knew he would be just tricking himself if he did. It's not going to be fine after what happened in the bathing chamber. Predicting things that are going to go wrong is his forte after all.

_Zayn_… always Zayn. Trouble follows their collision no matter how weak the hit is. He knew by now. And the consequences always took a toll on him than any other. 

The thin yet straight frame, thick black hair and sculpture-like face. After a year, he looked much older with facial hair - Harry had noticed as honey brown eyes stared at him intensely with a mix of anger and anguish. If he had at least spoken a word before dashing out the same way as he came, Harry would have cared less about any toil that is meant to follow.

He sighs inwardly, noticing the empty chair on the left to the King as the King continues to address and welcome the crowd.

Why is he even taunting himself with this? He had a lot more to worry about - care about, even at this very moment. Why bother with something pointless when he needed to be at his guard the most? It’s just going to mess with his head. Harry bites his chin inside. Focus… he needed to focus.

The trick to get through the night is to eat - because he can’t afford to drink, and let his guard down. _ It’s just five nights. _ He reminds himself. _ Fucking five nights and a one is almost done. He’s going to get through this. _

Harry can play deaf - and he’s practiced stoic probably more than all the blood suckers put together in this hideously decorated grand hall to be honest. What is a few more stinging whispers and few hundred stares at his highlighted attire today? At Least the scarlet robes would have served its purpose in humiliating him. Everyone should have their fun. Isn’t it?

As the King finishes his speech and takes his high chair, Harry too follows the rest of them and sits next to Shawn. Grimshaw takes his stand behind him as usual, like a gargoyle with hawk eyes. Thousands of nobles and rich in the grand hall glittered in front of him is their extravagant blacks and golds, already drunk with splendor… and blood. Their eyes, settling on him at least once, with smothering triumph or pitiful disgust.

Maybe they should just throw Harry into this pit of blood suckers and see what happens. Saves trouble for so many, including himself. 

He smirked to himself, and Shawn stares at him questioningly. 

Count Shawn de Mendes is the youngest addition to the court through inheritance, a closer friend to Niall, who Harry rather adored. Other than Shawn, Mitchell and Sarah; the Rowlands, he tries to keep to himself, not looking at anyone in the head table. It’s always safer to avoid their mocking faces. So he keeps interactions to minimum - just to greet and smile. The King ignores him as he usually does - it’s hardly the full moon, so no surprise there. And he keeps as much distance with Lord Grimas, dressed in his death-favoring black cloak, at all costs. But he couldn’t help wondering what the vile self proclaimed warlock is muttering at the King’s ear throughout the whole time. Had Harry not had the sound cancelling ring etched into his finger today, he could have listened to the entire thing just for entertainment.

The best thing about tonight's that it’s a formal set up - which could not be said about the next three days. Formalities he could deal with. Because he would know what’s going to come. There’s always ways to act in them, proper and guarded ways. 

So he goes with it for the most part without a scratch - bowing, talking, smiling and even the part where he had to witness the pathetic choreography and humiliatingly ghastly costumes in the rubbish performances with discreet. 

Mitch seem worried though - as same as Sarah, both eyeing the dancers with a hint of concern as the act draws near to the end. Even Shawn who sits to his right looks alarmed, while some watch him with smug satisfaction and smirks. But the worst is when he’s watched curiously - which is what he gets the most.

As the act gets intense between Homas and Germian soldiers, Harry leans forward and picks up an apple from one of the lavish fruit baskets. He starts eating it, paying more attention to the juicy bites in his mouth than whoever the woman they are pathetically trying to portray as his mother.

Well, he had been through this for years now. Hardly new… 

He had become quite good at coping with these kind of hollow things - his mother would have been proud. Gems would have shook her head with annoyance at him though... _ callous of him _, she’d say, like a bloody brick. He then spends a long time trying to imagine what Gems must look like now - how different, like a woman, maybe she resembles their mother. He thinks… at least it kills the time.

Soon after everyone cheers their heads off for the performance, the King retires from the hall. With him, the formalities. And Harry hates it. 

“Luke and Ashton’s having a host party for their lady loves, and invited me to accompany Lady Ariana. Care to join? They’ll be thrilled if you come.” Shawn asks as the air in the head table start to loosen after the King’s departure.

Harry just glares at him. This is not a fucking Mid Summer Ball so Harry could walk around the bloody crowd where only nobles in the castle attend. And he hadn’t met these ladies apart from Ariana… the last thing he wanted was to further play the amusement for guests. If Luke and Ashton want to impress their new loves, they better find another way. 

Shawn bites his lip looking at his face. “Sorry.” he says guiltily. Perhaps realising why Luke requested him to ask Harry. “My bad. Forgive me. Niall and Jeff are playing host to a guest by the request of the King. King's nephew I think. So I thought you’re better off with some company.” 

“You go join them.” Harry says impassively. The ones closer to him knew what this circus is like for Harry, though he never really spoke of it with them. “I’ll be fine. besides, I have no heart for new introductions.”

“You sure?” Shawn asks, face lines with worry now.

Harry just shrugs.

Shawn takes off to one of the front tables and Harry dares to take a glimpse of Niall and Jeffory sitting with a bit strange looking Vampir with piercing blue eyes. For whatever the reason he looks around almost disapprovingly - as if unimpressed by everything around him. Alright… one of those then. He thinks, rolling his eyes to himself. But for some reason he looks marginally familiar to him. At least that expression. Perhaps he has a slight resemblance to Zayn in a way. Well if he is related to the King, that means he shares blood with Zayn. Right.

Harry sighed, tired already. All he wanted was to leave the ghastly feast. Turning back, he spares a glance at Grimshaw with hopeful eyes - but it meets with nothing but a refusing head-shake and cold eyes. He scowls at him then and turns his gaze at the crowd again, randomly looking at no one. 

It is all glistling in black and gold. Music had already changed and the rich and noble of status had already started dancing and chattering away.

Head table seem to get empty fast, and he watches as Mitch and Sarah approached him - to give him their departure for the night for sure. Sarah looked stunning in her black gold tunic dress with the low cut neck. He remembers he had forgotten to compliment her. 

“We are taking leave.” Mitch says as Harry stares at his wife.

“You look absolutely fine today, Sarah love.” he tells ignoring him.

“Mind your manners lad. We Vampires can get quite jealous of our partners, unlike you cubs.” Mitch says playfully.

“Jealous because I prefer her to you?” Harry hits back picking on his nails with a scowl.

“Someone’s in a mood.” Sarah smiles. “Who should I glare at? Or scrape at this point?” she waves her long nailed fingers as if ready to cut.

“I can think of several.” he says tapping his fingertips, sinking slightly down with a thoughtful face. He doesn’t look up though.

Mitch sighs. “We really have to go, kiddo. Have some guests over joining for next two days. But we’ll see you tomorrow, yes?”

“Mmmhmm” 

“Where’s Shawn? Thought he’s sticking with you.” Sarah asks, thinking if it is a good idea to leave Harry to himself. She could tell he’s getting antsy. 

“Ashton’s trying to woo his lady love. I'd rather stay away.” He winks.

“Horan?”

“Niall and Jeff’s on the floor. Niall had been appointed a guest it seemed, by the King.”

“Lord of Riverdon estates in Hampshion, Louis William Tomlin, King’s nephew. He’s a hailed artist. I’ve heard good things about him, even though he hadn’t stepped anywhere near Germia since long back.” 

Harry shrugs mockingly. “Well, good for him. They are all the bloody same aren’t they? The lot of them. Can’t see why I should give a shit.” he mumbled.

If not for this freaking painter, he could have asked Niall to come up with some blasted excuse to leave. He just wanted to get the hell out of here. And Niall would have helped him. “You two get going. I’ll get drunk and wait until my keeper-Shaw decides it’s better to escort me back to my chamber.”

And he gestures a waiter that’s walking past with champagne and hell knows what. 

“Bring me a double scotch, neat. And some pork ribs, extra spiced ones.”

The waiter gulps, nervous. “Yes, Prince... My Lord.” 

Fucking Omegas. They’ve assigned several of them to serve the head table, probably to humiliate him… as if anything did anymore. He rolls eyes. 

“Catch you tomorrow. Take care kid.” Mitch says, before turning to leave. He gives Harry a little squeeze as he leaves with Sarah. And he just watch them.

When the waiter comes back, he orders another drink and dons it as soon as he gets it to his hand. But it’s not enough for him to get even slightly tipsy - damn his Lycan immunities. 

“Trying to get wasted before tomorrow, Lord Executioner? Thought it’s a celebration. Not a sulking contest.”

Harry stiffens at the sneering tone, but doesn’t turn to look.

“Lord Ansel Elgort.” he says lethargically. “Would have loved to say it’s good to see you. But travesty is beyond me tonight.” He wishes he is drunk for this. There probably isn’t enough alcohol in this whole damn place to make him high enough when he’s around these despicable goons. If Zayn want to say something, why wouldn’t he say it directly to Harry’s face

Ansel sneers. “Sordid as ever. Heard they actually tried do you in this time. Pity they failed, thanks to our guards. Maybe it’s time you showed some gratitude and learnt your place.”

His elbows resting on the arms of the chair, Harry just stares at Ansel, not moving an inch .

“My place?” he even raises an eyebrow. “Whatever that is, it definitely must be quiet higher than your station.” he huffs a smile as Ansel's face twists uglily. As if he didn’t see that, Harry gestures a waiter floating by and grabs two drinks off the tray. “Care for a drink?” He puts one glass on the table top and gives it a flick from his index towards Ansel. The glass slides a little, spilling a drop of the liquid to the table.

Ansel goes livid, even facing away from the crowd. “As if I’d lower myself to drink with a… a slave.” He nervously looks back as if to check he had been too loud the moment he does though.

Harry grins with a carefully schooled smirk on his face, noticing several faces on the ground directed at their encounter.

“You can drink, or you can explain the extremely inquisitive guests of your clan why you are refusing an offer to a drink by the one and only Lycan noble of high court. You wretched git.” he says with a small innocent smile, looking at several Vampires in the crowd still looking at their exchange with interest. 

Ansel’s face turns uglier as he picks the glass but not taking it anywhere near his mouth. Harry grins wider, sweeter.

“Sneer all you want, Lord slave. Dominic’s made sure to secure you in to our tent. No one else would be around to see, but you can give us a private show before you go play your lordly duties of cleaning the dungeons off mutts the day after.” Ansel says smirkingly. 

Harry sets a poker face and scoffs, not bothering to say a word. Why would he?

But Ansel seem to think he got him. So he continues.

“Bet you’ve been waiting to give a welcome to Javid. Sad he’s too irked by your presence to come to the feast today. He’s here for longer this time. Seems The King would be away for a while so he’ll be incharge. Imagine all the fun we could all have, _ Slave _.” Ansel smirks vilely, “See if you’ll sing the same tune then. You’ll be licking our boots on all fours right where you belong if it’s up to me… I’m pretty sure it will be.” 

Harry glares at him not blinking - nor losing his face. What a pile of bullshit. What an insufferable git. There is no way the King will leave Zayn incharge of him right?

“You’re bluffing.” he too sneers.

“Am I now? You seem impatient to get to it, seem to be already getting a hard on thinking about it. Want to practice licking my boots now? You’ll have to get on your knees and crawl to me.”

Harry stares at Ansel's petty face blankly. But before Harry even move an inch for a respond, someone clears the throat from his back.

“Think it’s time to retire for the night, Lord Starlingson.” Grimshaw informs taking a small step forward, probably seeing where this is heading if Harry is left to fend for himself. 

Ansel keeps grinning with a vile satisfaction in his eyes and Harry refuses to break the stare first. But eventually he does, getting up, picturing throttling Ansel’s neck and breaking his bones in his head. _ Calm the fuck dow__n_. He’s an attention deprived liar. Harry tells himself as he walks away, following Grimshaw. 

He feels Ansel’s smothering eyes all the way until he reaches the aisle. But hey, what is one more pair of eyes when hundreds are looking at him. It’s surprising how fast he could step to the no care zone. The key, is to not think.

He holds himself straight and tall as he walks behind Grimshaw, ignoring gazes, stares, glares, whispers and everything that comes in his way. Finally the first night is Four more to go. He stumbles on Niall and Jeff - playing host to the King’s so called artist nephew. Harry ignores him and his intense gaze intentionally. He’s had enough with Maniacs for the day. The douche looks at him as if he’d never seen a Lycan before. And it annoys him to death. All he wanted was to get out of the hall and be rid of all eyes watching him as if he's this creature dressed up for a show.

“Tomorrow’s a late night. I’d rather rest.” he tells Niall casually, as if it's a reason to take off. But he regrets it as soon because Niall’s face goes all grim. What is so strange about it really? 

“How are you holding, Harry?” Niall asks all concerned.

He’s been acting worried about Harry since the incident and Harry can’t see the point. Honestly, couldn’t all of them just give it all a rest? Ansel and Niall and whole lot of them. And what does it matter to any of them what his obligations are tomorrow? It’s none of their concern. 

“Fine.” he tells him. Harry would deal with stuff as they come like he had done all the time. “Shouldn’t I be?”

Harry finally follows Grimshaw and the guards out of the grand hall, and finally he feels he’s breathing free without a throng of eyes ogling at him.

Palace hallways are silent and dimly lit. Once they are far from the crowd, the guards let him walk with space. Even Grimshaw lets him stagger slower without urging him to hurry up. 

Since the last attack on him, the guard around him had been tight. Not that he enjoyed it but he could understand King’s intent to keep him live no matter what. …

Despite everything he drank, Harry feels thirsty. Maybe he can ask Gintel to bring him something warm from the kitchens. A soup maybe. And he needed a bath, he thinks huffing his nose. The metallic smell of human blood irks him - it always had. But it’s worse in days like this where you have too much of it around.

They walk in silence - only sound being the echoes of their heels on polished stone floor. As they close on his chambers, he spotted two of the King’s guards waiting for them near the passage to the King’s quarters. Gold in their armour shines up even in the dark - especially the crest of the dagger. Grimshaw walks towards them, gesturing Harry to stop. 

They exchange muffled words and Harry watches them wearily. All he wanted was to retire to his chamber and disappear from the world.

Harry looks at Grimshaw expectantly as he walks towards him. Grimshaw doesn’t look at his face - he never really does or talks with Harry unless it's necessary. Typically tall, lean and straight postured like any Vampire, Harry always thought he had the tightest lips and hawk eyes in the castle guard. No wonder the King specifically assigned him to Harry. He’s like the shadow stitched to Harry without his consent.

“The King had summoned you.” Grimshaw tells without looking at his face. “Come with me.” he says simply and walks towards the passage leading to King’s chambers - intending Harry to follow. 

Confused thoughts fly at Harry like moths. Not once had the King looked at him today, or probably this whole past week. What would he possibly be summoning him now for? His nerves starts to creep in as he follows his valet, who doesn’t look back at him even if he takes some moments to tag along. Grimshaw doesn’t enter the chambers, standing there as the guards push the gold painted double doors just enough for Harry to go in. 

He walks in alone as the doors close behind him. The room is exquisite, yet everything looks too dark, rich and still - silent. He ambles on the woven carpet, soundlessly as he could... 

Harry’s no stranger to King’s chambers. But it had been a while since the King seem to prefer keeping things to Harry's chambers for sometime now. Nonetheless, it feels endearing to be here … especially when he’s this sane. When there's no dread or fright consuming him, nor urges or pains - the full moon is four days away.

The King stands with his back to Harry at his desk - fiddling with some scrolls or objects - Harry doesn’t even want to know what. He steps closer and slowly breathes in.

“Your Majesty, you summoned for me?” he asks, standing with a considerable distance, hands clasped hand at his back. 

There is a pause, and Harry waits for the King to speak.

“I trust you enjoyed yourself today, Edward?” the King doesn’t turn to look at him as he asks in a tone that tells how unimportant the answer is anyway. ‘_ Edward _’, Only the King called him that - and Harry hated it.

“Very much so, you Grace.”

“Good.” he says methodically. “There is a whisper going around the elite groups suggesting that we are not as eager to celebrate the anniversary as earlier. That the interest is slowly sinking. Even the public enthusiasm.”

“My Lord?” Harry murmurs, unable to make a connection. 

“I wish Zayn joined us today with the feast. It matters for the supremacy when the first in line decides to play uninterested to attend for the most important celebration of the country, don’t you think?”

Harry just stares at his own feet. Is there a reason why he feels guilty on behalf of someone else? It’s more irrational than void. Zayn barely acknowledging his existence by is no reason to feel any connection. There seems to be no end to his mind’s naivety.

“Has he arrived yet?” The King asks conversationally. 

“He has, your Majesty.” Harry threads with careful words, knowing he’s stepping on a slippery path. Slips usually always are fatal to him... as same as lying.

“Did he come to see you?”

Harry slowly looks up, staring at the back of the King’s tunic. He clenches his jaws nervously. If crashing into his chambers unannounced (whilst he was in the bath), and stomping out without a word within seconds count - then,

“He did..., My Lord.” he sounds guiltier when he mumbles. “B-briefly.”

Harry looks back down at his shiny black boots feeling a familiar distraught building inside him- something he had been fighting to keep away from since Zayn barged in after a year. In the King’s eyes, he had nothing but tried to seduce Zayn, he knows that there’s no changing that. Perhaps it is better than what Zayn thinks. 

There’s a soft sound of a glass clattering and pouring from where The King is standing. Harry had no care for it - he just wanted to go back to his chambers and shut off until noon tomorrow, where he would have to get up and face things he’d rather avoid. Day after tomorrow is one of his hated and dreaded nights of the year. He just didn’t want to think about any of it now. Only if the King would let him go...

"Shred your clothes and get on the bed.”

The order comes in a different tone ripping at the silence suddenly… almost smothering, invisibly choking. Harry’s head just shoots up. He gulps without a word. _ It’s not - it’s not the full moon… There’s about four more days to it still… but, _

The King has his back to him, uncaring, degrading. Any man would spare a harlot at least the dignity of a gaze before their trading, - yet that is not what Harry would get from the King.

“Call in Grimshaw to get you ready.” The King adds, going on with his things in his desk. 

Is this punishment? Punishment for Zayn not attending the feast? For him barging in to Harry’s chambers without a reason or logic? Harry bites his tongue hard inside. What about tomorrow? And after? Something tightens at Harry's throat. It's been a while since the King took him unless it's full moon. Fear crashes his thoughts like boulders. Why now? Why not in four days when it's full moon?

The King raises his head without looking back, impatient by his hesitance... and wait. 

“Yes, My Lord.” he says as steadily as he could with a bow, clenching his teeth. 

He staggers to the door and knocks with whitened knuckles, his teeth biting at his tongue. The door opens to the passageway but he doesn’t step out, waiting for Grimshaw to come to the door frame. When he does, Harry merely turns to walk back in, knowing Grimshaw would follow him, which he does...

The King doesn’t pay either of them any attention from his desk. But Harry shivers as he passes the Kings’ sturdy physique, walking into the hardly lit inner chamber with the large four-poster bed. 

Harry couldn’t help but notice how it all looked eerily dark.

……………………………………………………………...

It was late. Really late. And it had been a long day, travelling, capital meet greets and the grand feast.. Louis feels he should have just gone to bed. But instead he is climbing this dusty stairway, artfully hidden behind the equipment cupboard fixed to the wall in the art storage of the mansion he's staying. 

The rest of the house is asleep, including Ellis, his valet. Louis tires to keep things quiet as much as he can, but he knows he won't wake anyone at this stage. To be extra careful, he gulped down the two potions Alison had given him… the one following the scent of Klaus’ blood and the one that would make his own scent null. As long as he stays hidden, there won’t be implications, unless Yaagine, the housemaid decides to barge-in to check him in his empty room, which he doubts she would.

He keeps a steady check on his feet, because the tunnel is narrow and its steps steep. It feels more like walking in a crypt, a tomb. The torch at his hand with a weak flames danced, lighting the narrow way around him. Shadows it made, kept him company as he strolled up, ears and eyes open for movement. The scent he had been catching seem to grow as he stepped further up. It is a good thing he had his dagger and the silver sword on him, which he wore in his belt - because he had no clue where this will lead.. Or who would be waiting ahead.

The stairs and the walls were made from limestone, he could tell. And the steps seem to get circular - making him assume that he must be in some sort of a tower. And there is a good chance that this is leading in to the castle, because the mansion given to him is one part attached to the side of the castle. The scent was growing stronger with each of his steps, but there seem to be nothing except the dusty limestone walls and steps around him. He even tries to listen, with his ear closer to the walls. But all he hears is silence… maybe the walls are thicker, or wherever he is, has to be this silent. Step by step he continues up - he must be well off the ground level by now, he thinks. For the sake of his family he wishes no one would come towards him down the steps. The last thing he wanted was to be caught doing something he shouldn't in the very first day in the capital.

After much of climbing up, the line of steps ends with an extended pathway ahead. But a few feet forward, Louis spots something strange. A streak of bright light shooting through the left - a beam, making a patch of light on the wall in the dark passageway. It lit up the passage faintly, but the darkness consuming the narrow way seem to swallow the light without an effort.

And Louis knew what it is, a streak of light. _ A peephole _... light shooting into the dark passage through a vent. With the direction the tunnel lead him, this has to be inside the castle. Does anyone know this is here? It looks like a spyhole to whatever 's in the other side of this wall.

Hooking the torch on a peg in the wall, Louis slowly steps up to the landing - the passageway seem to continue to the dark, narrower, stretching beyond the streak of light. He moves closer to the beam, finding the hole cut in the limestone easily. The scent is the most intense he'd felt, and it is coming through the peephole, he realises. Is Klaus here? In the castle?

As he closes, he notices something else as well. Next to the vent on the wall, there is a door. Closed - old and padlocked. It looks as if it had been closed for sometime... dusty and woven in cobwebs; like some forgotten secret. The hidden steps through the cupboard, the narrow tunnel, peephole... and now a door; someone's surely been sneaking around. This passage is probably a secret tunnel. And Klaus found it? how?... had he been caught? and what business does he have inside the castle? what was his mission that Payne and the Resistance were so stealthy about. Something obnoxious circled it all... Louis could feel it. 

Leaning towards the vent, he peeps in - noticing that it had a decorative wooden grill on the other side. It must look like some wood art etched into the wall in the good side... was it same for the door next to it?

It takes a few seconds for his eyes to settle in to the light - because whatever he' looking at through the vent was brightly lit. And when it does, he finds that he's looking at a chamber … a one artfully furnished. An inner chamber, since he could see a four-poster bed with a canopy, a large freestanding gilded mirror and a wooden chest on stand. The curtains were thick and velvet red... similar to his own room in the mansion, and there were several gold ornate lamps affixed to the walls which emitted a steady rich light with large white candles.

The chamber was empty, maybe it's a guest room for a festival invitee like him - Louis thinks. But soon his thoughts are proven wrong as a door clicks somewhere in the room. Louis stays still as dead, watching as a maid walks in - carrying some white robes in her arm. It doesn't take too long for Louis to notice something that surprises him. The woman, dressed in rather typically to a castle maid is hardly a Vampire. She is unmistakably a Lycan. Louis watches curiously as she places the white robes on the bed carefully, arranging them slowly. She looks a bit distracted, he notices, or worried. It's doubtful that she's a slave though - because the manner she holds herself is different to an omega slave cowing down at anything. After placing the materials on the bed, she sits down on a chaise longue by the bed, face clearly troubled... her eyes kept moving to a side Louis can't see. Anxious and uptight, she seem to be waiting for something... or someone. Behind the longue she sat was a drape - red, with a head of a beast stitched to it in gold... a head of a wolf probably, he notices; or is that the crest of Homas?

A Lycan maid in the castle... the red flag of the highland wolves - it seemed a little strange to Louis. But then, it connects in his head.

The scent he's picking, Klaus, the Lycan maid …, the bloody flag... the gaps seem easier to fill suddenly. It's not the scent of Klaus he'd been picking. Alison's potion had been working, leading Louis to the scent of his blood all this time - but not exactly the way it was intended to. He's felt the familiar scent at the grand feast as well, only he couldn't place his head correct because everything was in a heightened chaos at that place.

Instead of Klaus, it had lead him to the closest thing to Klaus here, by blood.

His nephew. The estrange Lycan prince - who is the only blood relative to Klaus in the city. That explains the Lycan maid... and the red Lycan flag flashing on the wall. 

This - if Louis' not mistaken - is not anywhere Klaus had been. This is the quarters of the Lycan prince of Homas.

…………………………….

_ Dread... _

Yes, dread is what Klaus feels, huddled in a corner of his dark cell. And shreds of pain that didn't connect with his body physically at all. It had nothing to do with him. None... But he had a good idea who did.

Klaus had not pledged loyalty directly to the Alpha prime, yet he is quite sure a connection had been forged in between them with desperation, and anguish at that hour - which he would rather not recall or re-live. And Klaus is in the closest distance any Alpha had ever gotten near the Alpha prime - and he could feel him. Feel his pain and anguish in his own bones... at least fragments of it. 

The need to save him, aid him, etched into Klaus like a madness that seem to consume him... day and night. It is all ironic, true... because he set out to kill him. Rid him of his life and take his place, - because he didn't know. Anyone doesn't know. 

His breath is choking him, heart pounding viciously. Klaus couldn't stop the whimper or the tears that leaked out of him. They didn't belong to him - Klaus knew, at least not all of it. They belong to the prince, trapped and singled out in this merciless hell pit... It's probably a festival night. The inauguration night for the capital's celebration. What are they doing to him? he even feared to think. Feared for the prince's life and sanity. 

Several omegas in the cell across him were watching him, seeing him in his madness. They won't feel it - the Omegas. Only Alphas could detect the sensations of an Alpha Prime... bound to aid in need, a loyalty that they carry through blood and bones. None of them staring at him wide eyed could feel the tiniest of what he was feeling. Not the unreasonable pain... nor the freezing cold and definitely not the sensation of life oozing out of him. Perhaps him sharing this trauma would ease the prince's pain. He tries to imagine desperately, to find some solace for the overwhelming sensations, as he feels the howling screams that builds up … but doesn't really leave the Alpha prince's throat for some reason. And it burns his throat like swallowing sand.

Klaus could feel it all.

He curled into himself, making himself smaller... because that's what the Alpha prince craved to do - to huddle in, disappear... and to be left alone. So he curls in tighter, hugging himself as if his life depended on it, as if to comfort the aching body. Because somehow in his heart, Klaus knew that the prince had been denied to do even that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that unravelled a bit more. And finally we are getting closer to real interactions. Let me know what you think please... love to hear your thoughts!!!


	7. Lanterns & Masks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several encounters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really really should apologise for the epically long time I took to post this chapter. I was travelling for the first part and then it was really hard to get back to writing with the gap. Writers' blocks are no fun :( :( But it's long chapter of some stuff happening so I hope I can hide behind that. I must say I didn't have much time to re-read and check this chapter before posting it because it would have taken more time. So please excuse for any mistakes until I do a proper check and correct them.  
Hope I didn't disappoint you too much. (hiding under my desk) Sooory!!!
> 
> Also, the site I used to upload artworks was taken down. For some reason I can't seem to upload artworks from deviant art site. So if anyone have suggestions as to what I should do, please let me know. 
> 
> Happy reading!!!!

Two terms to take note; 

_Monarchy Seal* - Set of documents proving the wealth, family ties and service to the crown to be entitled with a place in King's court._

_Athenaeum* - A librariy house/ institution for literary or scientific study_

**7\. ** **Lanterns and Masks**

It is quite late when Louis manages to wipe away the sleep from his drowsy eyes the next day. To his utter irritation, he feels dizzy, groggy with a pounding headache as if he knocked his head on a rock. Probably it's an offshoot of Taylor Alison's genius brews... something she _forgot_ to mention him about. Curling his fingers through the mess of his hair, Louis tries not to groan. The thick curtains of the room are drawn, but he could tell that the sun is mid way to the top of the sky. Time, is on the run. The sealed letter Liam de Payne had given him is hidden carefully under the metres right under his head. He doesn't check it but he could hear the thin paper pressing in to wood as he moves his head. In the dawn of the second day in the capital, he is neither closer to finding the Alpha Lycan Klaus Hugarstarlin nor locating the mysterious Resistance-aiding courtier, Rowland he is supposed to deliver the letter to. With only three days left before the full moon, he finds himself wondering if this is all going to be nothing but a failure of a journey. 

He had stayed long in the tunnel last night, to see if his assumption about the chamber was right... hoping to see the Lycan prince walking in anytime- but without any luck. None had entered that chamber other than the phasing Lycan maid. It was a waste of time. He should have at least tried to find where the tunnel lead instead, but it had been too late for that. Perhaps he should make a second trip when the light is still up and find out. 

Yaagine had prepared a feast for breakfast - fruits, breads and cheeses with dozens of bakes. Wines were all blended with blood in different quantities. Surely the capital had a continuous supply to lavishly spend it away like mere water. It was such a contrast to how things are in Hampshion, or anywhere other than the capital where things are actually valued. Yaagine inquires again of his availability for the slave viewing while he dined - even apologising for asking him to spend his precious time on it.

"Tomorrow perhaps” he says impassively, not sure how to let down the despicable offer without coming out a ridicule or a radical. “I need to visit the grand Athenaeum today. Should take the opportunity, while in the capital.” he explains

It is the truth anyway. With no clue of a link to the name Rowland so far, he just might have a better luck in the family records and castle logs to find the so called Count. And where else is better for that than the Athenaeum? The one place that keeps all things written.

After treating himself to some of the blended wines, Louis takes off to the Athenaeum with Ellis. Niall and the clan offered to accompany him in a city tour, but he had told them that he would meet them in the gardens near the river banks for the festival tonight instead. He wanted some privacy for the Athenaeum, not only for the intended task... but to wallow in the past amid tomes and volume of his many visits to the premises almost half a century back. 

It is a white washed building surrounded by much shorter roofs, and the four turrets at each corner rose up to the sculptured eagles taking flight. Eagle, the emblem of the clave of the Scholar Masters who produced and managed the records and volumes. Capital's Athenaeum is a replica of the Academia house in Angara... a smaller one maybe, with no lush landscapes around. But the plan, and the architecture is of an exact copy. And it even held duplicates to most books in the Academia.

Physically, nothing looks changed... not even the maps of entire Emorous that was painted across the walls. It felt like walking into one of his memories, strangely familiar. Masters loved consistency, if anything.

The atrium of the hall is mostly the same as Louis remembers - it’s high roof lifted up by eight pillars decorated with white marble. Fountain made of brass midway and the front table ironically placed in the far end of the hall. If the arrangements haven’t changed, the royal scripture collections and records were stored in the right wing while the rest of scientific and art collections were in left. Rogard Tomlin, Louis father being the head of the King’s close council at his time, kept many records that went into the archives of the right wing. And several of Louis’ art records used to have a place in the left and wing - But after all these years Louis doubted if it is still the case.

After few chats to the atrium keeper at the front table, Louis finds himself being assisted by the Athenaeum head, Master Tark. Apparently the name _ Tomlin _ still had it’s place even without Louis’ now new found title as the _ King’s nephew_. There are still books and volumes with the name Tomlin on the shelves... or so the Master tells him. Some records and works from the past had been destroyed or moved to the restricted section, especially the ones with provocative viewpoints to the King's regime. 

Louis mentions about his interest in the record section of the council bearers and root families - purely to be in on the knowledge of who is who after such a long time. It might have sounded a little odd but the Master doesn’t seem to mind. Being buried in old volumes and tomes for sometime, Louis finds much of what he was looking for… or not. Apart from the Marquess Lorous, a peer of his late father, there was no one in the court Louis even barely recognised. None of the names bearing the titles rang any bells in his memory. It is a new world order in the literal form.

_Rowlands _, as he digs out from their Monarchy Seal*, were a family of new found riches. But their wealth, enormous and splendid, only surpassed by a handful in the capital, including the Mainacs. Rowlands resided in the Mayfur castle according to the records, which as a fact Louis knew to be owned by one of the wealthiest courtiers in the past - a castle the King used to hire to host midsummer balls due to its lavish ballroom. They were a privileged family of sailing and ships before a near decade, the Rowlands, seeming to have built their exceptional family fortune by trade… though Louis finds it a little incredulous. Sure, the past ten years was a time of opportunities for sailors and traders. But it was the opposite before that with the war. How the Rowland family found their treasures during the time of war was questionable. Nevertheless, Count Rowland had even held the title as Master of trade at the court, before taking on a position at the close advisory committee to the King. Sure he’s had a powerful stand by the King’s side and in capital, but how he ended up aiding the Resistance is lost to Louis by all means. 

Could this Count really be trusted? ...even if Louis manages to find him before it’s too late, what is the guarantee for his loyalty to the Resistance, or Payne? Or will this get his head on a spike for no reason in the end?

Closing up the books and rolling up the scrolls, Louis ends his research to head back to the mansion. He picks up a few volumes of recent court bearings and Monarchy Seals of several houses for later reading. Sure he found details, but his frustration grew with the knowledge gained. If he made a wrong move, the consequences are going to be anything but he is willing to handle. And with only three nights to the full moon, his failure to find Klaus from wherever he is in the capital, stakes would be high for many who would be forced to face him.

Louis lets Ellis drive him around the carriage for sometime after, so he could calm his mind over the plight he had landed on. Who should he trust? Who should he connect with? Should he send a message to the castle of Mayfur, requesting an audience out of nowhere? Would anyone suspect anything if he did, and put everything on danger?

He feels at a loss despite the ravishing festive spirit of the city roads he's passing. The streets are a blow up of colours with the highlight to gold. The music blended everywhere with street musicians and dancers took it to themselves to fill the streets. Mask wearing crowds strolled around in daylight, dressed in the most dramatic ways and colours. Brightest are their colours, often feathered and richly embroidered. Louis had heard of the grand festival and its overblown parades for a decade in Hampshion but this is the first time he is seeing it all. The victory celebration of the century. It is going to be a night of costumes, drinks and dramatics. And as Louis had heard, there would be a grand lantern festival in the southern gardens around mid-night. Everything is going to be great unless this is all steadily heading to a disaster if they have a wolf-turned Alpha Lycan on lose within few days. And Louis knew this is the last place he wanted to be if that happens, celebration or not.

When they return to the mansion about a hour after, there's still with enough time for him to get ready for the night' festivities. He would not be meeting Niall and the clan until the late evening. He decides to make a use of his time and return to the gallery room, telling Ellis to make sure he’s not disturbed. As Ellis brings the books from the Athenaeum, Louis notices he’s wearing the black tunic of the castle guards instead of his usual casual garments… even pinned the badge of Mainac house on his chest. _Has he been wearing those while touring around the city?_ Louis is not sure.

“You look like you’re fitting right in, Ellis.” he comments picking up one of the books. “Would I have to leave without you then.”

“Yaagine insisted. It’s for your safety, My Lord. Apparently there had been an attack about a week ago, and the guard is tight for the festival. The castle guard had been appointed to aid if anything unwelcome happens.”

“I see. Now relieved.” he says without sounding too ironic, and Ellis smirks. “Attack on the King?”

“No. A noble, my lord. No one really knows who, but it was a failed attempt. They suspect an involvement from the Resistance.”

“Resistance?”

“Apparently.” Ellis sounds ridiculed as Louis nods without a word. 

He turns back to his book, letting Ellis leave shutting the door behind him, staring at the inked letters while the detail sunk in. Can this be the mission Payne and everyone was so adamant about? Can it be that Kalus' secret mission is to kill someone... Murder someone in the capital? The King perhaps? Seems not. But then who? And if he failed, and still alive_... does that mean...?_

Can it really be Klaus...?

Louis goes back in to the tunnel with thoughts hazing his mind. 

Despite it's daytime, the tunnel looks and feels just the same as last night as Louis starts with the steps. The darkness, void and silence... Maybe the smell of dust and old limestone is even worse now that Louis had not taken the potion to direct his sense of smell. He had only gulped down the brew to cloak himself, so his presence wouldn’t be detected. The sole intention was to find where the tunnel led, because this secret passageway can’t be just for spying out that chamber as his gut felt. With his weakly lit torch, Louis follows the narrow steps up as same as yesterday. By all means he intends to ignore the beam of light coming through the spyhole as he lands to the long passageway, focusing on chasing the dark tunnel to the end.

He almost succeeds, but something stops him. Or someone… on the other side of the wall. 

Louis no longer needed a potion to know whose scent he is picking among the others. Without much of a reason it makes him stop in front of the peephole... knowing now his guess last night is right. It grips his thoughts, making his head light. Avoiding any audible sound, he bends so his eye is in the same level... and looks through the opening. 

The gilded mirror, red curtails, the red flag and everything looks exactly the same as last night, unless the bed. The top layers of the canopy bed are drawn. And on white underlayers, as he expected, lay none other than the Lycan prince. 

But to his utter surprise, he wasn’t alone.

There were three or four more bodies wrapped around him. _Naked_. Grinding to a rhythm of rugged and elated breathing, slithering their hands and legs through the prince’s sweat oiled body like a treasure. It was hard to say whose limb was where, tangled up in a haze of an unholy pleasure. The Prince, with sweat drenched hair covering up most of his face, seemed barely there, lost in an ecstasy. His body is pliant and loose at the other hands.. flesh, as if it was the rest of the world’s duty to send him to europia while he floated above their worshipping limbs. He looks abnormally pale for some reason though, Louis notices. Perhaps even ill, at the second glance - different to the perfection he looked yesterday… everything about him slack, or passive perhaps as if he's worn out... Did he suddenly fall sick? 

Louis couldn’t miss several strange black markings linked to his skin in its contrasting paleness. But with all the bodies rubbing against him, they are half covered and too far for Louis to get a better glance. 

Sound of moans of breaths fill Louis’ ears, with his eyes following every slow touch, every nip dragging through the Prince’s toned, slack, sinful body. He couldn’t breathe or move - looking at the rapturous painting right before his eyes, like a scene from a expensive whorehouse. He couldn't stop watching... couldn't avert his eyes away. It could have been a piece of art depicting a height of carnal ecstasy. As Louis watched, a female with long hazel eyes runs her slender long hand through the Prince's dark greased hair, dragging his head up - bending his neck back with care to rest on her breasts. The Prince yields to the touch, revealing red bitten lips and dull, dashingly green eyes, vacant and heavy lidded. They turn to the wall ahead, unblinking and dilated... looking right at Louis as if he could see him, breathing ruggedly from his utterly sinful mouth.

Louis staggers back as he’d been knifed… red terror running through his brain, his trans suddenly and finally broken. He doesn’t move for a good few seconds, holding his breath in his lungs. No… there is no way the Lycan prince could have seen him. No way. Even without any potions or magic, there is no chance that anyone could spot him with the wooden grill in the otherside.

Stupid. Stupid of him and utterly clumsy of him to be distracted by something of a private moment of the Prince... It is by an accident that he stumbled upon it. It is by a mistake that he looked. He should move… move fast, letting the Lycan Prince have his way as he wants it. There’s tunnel Louis needed to find an end to. 

** **

Sometime later, Louis concludes that the passageway doesn’t lead much of anywhere. The more he walked, the more he felt the passage becoming rusty and cramped, tapering like a hand dig hole if nothing else. And he hears the grovel of air hitting the solid limestone ahead and the passage coming to a sudden meaningless stop even without reaching the edge. It is a useless attempt, whatever this tunnel is… maybe it was half done, or closed - abandoned years ago. All in all it is a waste of time, given the limited time he has to sort everything out. 

He turns back before reaching the useless end, and quickens his steps on his way back so he has enough time to get ready for the festival tonight. He doesn’t even try to turn his eyes to the peephole of the Lycan prince’s chamber as he passes - adamant on keeping his attention where it should.

…………..

** **

The celebrations had already started when Louis arrives at south gardens of the castle, the Lake Wood. South lake marks the border of the southern end of the capital with its green banks being the largest royal garden in the capital. The obvious choice for today's ceremonies.

Sure, the entire city had been in a high festive mode since much earlier, but in the Lake Woods... things are even higher and richer. With fire carrying marble figurines lighting the place along with the festive lanterns, the place looked something close to a illuminated paradise of a dream. The landscape is breathtaking and wonderous, with neatly cut trees and blossoming hedges. A mass of rich paraded around hand in hand, many in shiny clothes and jewels dazzling the place… Louis' own midnight blue attire seem to stand out amid the shiny over the top clothes of many around him. But most of the rich and noble were in costumes, garbs that must be quite offensive to walk around in any other day… especially the ones that included gold snouts with sharp teeth or obvious black cloaks. Perhaps these city dwellers found it quite endearing to be dressed as Lycans and Warlocks on such a day. 

With Ellis standing behind him like a guarding gargoyle, Louis searches for young Horan’s bright presence. Niall was supposed to meet him at the garden entrance, to escort him to their private marquee for the night. It’s not Niall though, but Jeffory Azoff Louis sees waiting for him. He's a pleasant one, Jeffory, Louis had decided since yesterday, polite and quiet…light spoken, but observing until satisfied. A contrast to Niall’s personality and appearance... with his black hair, thick brows and oval shaped face that only rarely smiled unlike Niall. Dressed in woollen black and a dark green tunic, the young courtier easily blended with the coming night than anything else. Seem he’s not up for fancier whimsical fashions like the rest of the capital, though his attire is surely fine-made.

Jeffory tells him quite apologetically that Niall’s got held up by an urgent matter, and that he’s waiting for Louis to join him in the exclusive area. He leads Louis along a white paved path, decorated with flaming lamps and golden threads woven with white flowers on either side. The grass borders running along are scattered with white rose petals, like in some misguided, romantasised dream. Open canopy tents with large tables of food and drinks were everywhere… sending a free invite for anyone to satisfy their taste buds while soft string music floated around while richly dressed dancers twirled around flying their flowing shawls, throwing fumed sparkly dusts around like magic. Everywhere is an absolute fascination to look at.  Sleek, alluring and enchanting. Worthy of the grandness in cutthroat Germian highborn society and quite over the top if Louis is truthful. Not that he was expecting anything less in the capital. 

But what most astonishes Louis as they walk further is the shameless display of the Lycan slaves.

Dressed in thin sultry sleek cloths with jewellery glittering to draw attention to the parts of their bodies, all Lycan pets wore golden masks and plated bands around their necks. Thin gold chains hung down the plated bands, for the masters to lead the way in need, it seemed. It looked like a brash display of ownership and authority. A cringeworthy sight for Louis, yet he tries best to act normal about it because Jeffory doesn’t even blink at the sight, chatting about the events for the next few days... This is nothing but the normal for him, a capital dweller who must have known nothing else. Louis avoids looking at the timid, obedient looking slaves at all costs… even though he feels Ellis’ eyes keep following them behind them. Perhaps he should have expected something like this - it’s the capital after all. Where else would the privileged flash their unsubtle arrogance and power over the weak? It is all a game in the end, and nothing but a harsh, mirthless joke.

The private tents are set along the river banks… for the richest of the rich and nobles hosting their own private celebrations. How much a private marquee must have cost, on top of the hosting expenses? Surely a fortune by the mere look at it. A good trick to get the rich to transfer their coins to the royal treasury it seems. But the rich hardly seem to mind it, undoubtfully happy to show off their material wealth and compete with one another. In their world of sweet cakes, embroidered velvet cushions, diamond encrusted door handles, abundant supply of  fine wine blends and profuse luxuries, it must be one of the highlights of the year - to spend the most to attract much talk. The place seem heavily guarded - Louis recognises the castle guard with livery. There were less people there than the rest of the garden, less festive outside...unless he counts random drunk few strolling around chattering and laughing. Everyone seems to be doing what they are doing inside the promptly set marquees which had arch shaped windows covered by silks of drapes. Marquees have been set up with distance with one another - to avoid undesired interactions maybe… Louis guesses. 

Jeffory manages lead them through the exclusive area without any hiccups. Few soldiers greet them as they draw closer to one of the huge white marquees with flags of sun hoisted on top. And then just like that, Louis spots Niall… More like Niall spots them because Louis barely recognises him with his yellow gold overcoat and the strange crown like headdress that extends to a golden mask - which has a mocking similarity to the masks the Lycan slaves were wearing.

Waving his hands, Niall heads towards them with quickened steps.

“You seem rightly dressed for the night, lad.” Louis comments not even trying to hide his marvel.

“Yes, hideous.” Jeffory says shaking his head. “Forgot to warn you, My Lord.”

Niall snorts, rolling his eyes through the mask. “Please. Forgive me that you had to put up with Jeffory’s grim presence, Lord Louis. I promise you it’s going to be far entertaining here onwards.”

And it _ is _… shockingly entertaining. The sight of it all.

The very first glance Louis gets as he steps into the large Marquee is the crystal hanging roof like in some unexplainable dream. It is absolutely beautiful inside… sparkling and surprisingly soothing. Arched windows framed the view of the lake, far and beyond. The pillars holding the tent had wines running up with red blossoms. The lamps illuminated in a shade of amber, glowing floral patterns on the walls. The air is scented, and slightly hazy.

It all flashed wealth, unreasonable luxury - over indulgence.

Marquee was filled with guests. _ Invited _ guests - meaning an assemble of courtiers and rich wearing their finest whimsicals. Many held fine golden goblets while masked Lycan slaves swooped around with golden plates and jugs, filling up the necessary. But unlike the slaves led with hooks and chains by the masters in the garden, these Lycans walked around free - wearing a black collar around their necks with Horan house sigil, which is a sun. With Niall wearing the golden mask beside him with the rest of his attire made it nothing but a peculiar sight. 

Niall does have a bizarre sense of humor, that is for sure. 

In the middle of the marquee, there is a golden basin with finely crafted fountain, spewing an amber coloured liquid to it. There were people around it, chattering with twinkling laughter... drinking from it. And that’s where Louis spots him for the first time in the night after stumbling upon his intimacy unknowingly. The Lycan Prince. 

Clothed this time...

Dressed in a pink shimmery sheer blouse with a hanging bow, sleeves casually drawn up, the Prince stood there like a sculpture that had come alive among the crowd, his features perfectly in place with long curls of hair. A black furry cape rested on the left shoulder. He is chattering away in a group as if he’s one of their own. It is a strangely simple outfit, compared, that might have looked ridiculous on anyone. But with his flowing curls and lean long limbs, the Lycan Prince seem to resonate nothing but grace and beauty rarely a male could possess - let alone a Lycan. His green eyes sparkles as he speaks - childish at times, flirtatious at times. And the lords and ladies in his circle seem to stare at him with an awe induced hunger, their eyes secretly taking sips on his semi-naked body through the sheer blouse. And the Prince seemed quite aware of it if anything, his lips marginally hinting on a smirk if anyone's gaze lingers a bit too long anywhere under his chin.

Louis hesitates, his mind running back to the unexpected intimate scene he witnessed earlier through the peephole. The prospect of having to face the Lycan before the end of today hits him, making him nervous and guilty at having seen what he should not. But only for a moment, because Niall drags him through new introductions and conversations. Jeffory picks two goblets from a slave and passes a one to Louis mid conversation - perhaps noticing how Louis seem to keep his distance with everything Lycan… though he doesn’t comment a word. Louis sips the blended wine slower than he likes, but he needed to keep a straight head and a ear on everyone around them to not to miss a thing - in case a mention of an Alpha Lycan or the name ‘Rowland’ slip by.

It’s not as easy as Louis thought, keeping a pleasant front when the word exchanges are either painfully pretentious or bitingly unpleasant with the reason being that these noble Vampires are generally a glazed, narcissistic lot. 

“Wonder if the rest of Eromous is celebrating anniversary in such a grand scale.” it is a paunchy noble with gray hair wearing a wolfskin cloak.

“Can’t imagine why they wouldn’t… they should right?” another asks dimly.

“Well, wealth might not be equal around the country.” words get better of Louis, “or the need.”

“What’s the use of celebrating if it’s not grand enough,eh? Capital’s would never have that issue.”

Niall and Jeffory looks impassive through it all, and Louis barely managing not to roll eyes, decides the words are a waste. So he’s kind of glad to escape such a conversation when he hears a hazy happy voice from a corner to his left.

“My Lord Tomlin! Lord Tomlin!!!!!” 

It is a scrawny black haired lad dressed in a shocking tully blue tunic with feathers, raising his goblet from a circle of young noblemen and a woman sat in red velvet couches, drinking and eyeing him eagerly. Timothee Chalamet, he recognises the only son of Lord Adgar Chalamet, the Lord Treasurer of the King’s court. Louis had met him and several in the group last night at the feast. The enthusiastic lad had a sense of humour and quite outspoken views for a courtier’s son. He’s one of the youngest he’d met in the capital so far - probably hadn’t even come of age yet..

Louis excuses him from the gathering and heads towards the group and Niall and Jeffory follows. 

“Lord Tomlin, it’s so glad to see you among us like mindeds.” he bows dramatically, “Excellent night, Lord Horan. You’ve exceeded everything I’ve seen on a night like this… including the costume. What a statement.”

“Rather a matter of an incident, good lad.” Niall says touching the metal surface as Jeffory looks down carefully. “What can I say? What a Horan say, a Horan does.” he grins happily, admiring the already drunk crowd proudly, looking through the hideous mask.

After exchange of few good words Niall leaves Louis and Jeffory with the group to fulfill more of his host duties. The group is pleasant enough to indulge in. Lady Ronan, chirpy and sharp tongued had been with Timothee last night. Both Clifford and Hemmings in the group are new faces, but Louis remembers Mendes from last night’s head table, sat next to the Lycan prince. 

They all seem rather eager to get drunk… along with the rest of the crowd. It is practically a drinking fest...Louis realises. He finds that they have the whole night to acquaint with drinks, blended or not. The lantern festivities starts an hour past midnight - which would end the second day celebrations. 

“It’s tradition to be stone drunk to watch the lanterns,Lord”, Mendes tells him, sipping on blended wine, “- _ it doubles the effec _t.” he claims.

The air in this group, as Louis feels, is far less conservetive than the previous ones - maybe because they are younger in age than most in the room. 

Everything moves pleasant and smooth for him up until the point where two timid faced Lycan slaves reaches their velvet couched circle with jugs full of stocks. Up until then, everything regarding slaves had been things Louis had looked from afar… even back in Hampshion or elsewhere, the capital …. he had kept his distance even when he was passing all those slaves chained to their masters earlier in the garden. He preferred it that way.

But now there are two of those damned souls in front of them. Trying to top his drink.

They were both clad in red, probably to match the interior of the tent - like the rest of the matching furniture. The way their bare knees dipped to the floor, the gold mask and the collar around their petite necks… it is like a splash to the reality from a pleasant nap. Louis declines the drinks as politely he could, avoiding any contact, which may have looked as if he is trying to ignore their presence. The slave boys most attentively places the drinks on a stool beside Louis. Maybe Louis’ face gives away his disapproval… the encounter earns an amusement from several around him. 

“They won’t dare spoil the drinks, My Lord Louis. Assure you the stocks are the best of the best of all Emorous.” Hemmings says as he swings a little while taking a sip from his golden goblet. “-supplied by the royal stocks.”

Well it had nothing to do with the pitiful soul spoiling the drink. “I don’t doubt it.” he picks up the goblet slowly, thoughtfully. “I’m just from a different era with different practices is all. The ways of the new world is a bit too raw for my taste… crass if I can add. No offence.”

“Oh none taken, lord.” Timothee jumps in reaching for the plate of red wine soaked olives. The slaves just brought. “You’ve been away from the capital for long. Things must be different.”

“Different is an understatement.” Louis slowly takes a sip without really looking at any of them. “Try another world perhaps.”

“Presume it’s a better world now than you left, My Lord. Or you wouldn’t have returned.” Clifford suggests. 

“Tell us more of your time. Where there any Lycans in the city then?” Lady Ronnan asks getting comfortable on the cushion. Dressed in a coral pink dress with gold threadwork, brown sleek hair, she reminds Louis a version of a younger Felicity.

“Not really. A very few maybe. There was a time surely that they travelled in an out. Trade was one of their things.” Louis says. It felt strange talking about Lycans out in the open like this in a festive tent in Germia out of all the places. It is nothing but a taboo in Hampton even among dinner guests. “Guess the world took a turn.”

“Took a spin more likely. “Timothee says thoughtfully. “ You seem unwilling to take their service. Understandable if it's distaste for the whole Lycan faction in general, because my family is finicky with their views on the wolf clan. But I doubt it’s your case. Or is it?”

“Please don’t answer that, Lord Tomlin.” Hemmings cuts in as Mendes shakes his head. “He’s trying to trap you into one of his lumbering views on factions and politics. Clifford, spare the lord off your cons. Lord Starlinson’s not here, so save it”

“It’s no trap.” Timothee shrugs, meeting Louis’ gaze. “Just a simple question. He’s not the only one to be repulsed by Lycans strolling about half naked. It’s a free country” 

Jeffory raises his eyebrows and shakes his head, while the other two stretches uncomfortably.

Louis simply smiles looking at Timothee… but more to himself. “Repulsed? No. Not the case at all.” he assures. “Cautious rather.”.

“Phew… you made me worried there for a second, my lord. I rather love my petite slaves.” Hemmings laughs… joint by the rest of them. “You won’t find anything obedient as them in the city.” 

“Do spare us the details of your bed-habits, Hemmings. Lord Tomlin _will be_ repulsed.” Mendes chuckles.

Timothee seem to ignore Hemmings’ interruption. His fixed gaze really reminds Louis of a younger version of radical James. He seemed lightheaded, but Louis doubted if it had anything to do with wine, blood or the blend.

“Caution?” Timothee asks, “-they no longer pose a threat to us Vampires. It’s been dealt with.”

“Perhaps It’s more a mutual respect, including for the omegas who they are rather protective about. Made it easier to co-exist I guess.” Louis shrugs as he says. “As I said, I’m still down with older traditions” 

Timothee nods thoughtfully while Hemmings sways. Lady Ronnan and Mendes both seem amused, while Jeffory just stares blankly. Louis didn’t necessarily share the same views on factions or politics with the King - it was not a secret when they lived in the capital. Not even to the King. It was an agreed disagreement. He never cared to hide the fact. King Benedict's take for Lycans had always been crude and ruthless. But Louis doubted that the King is foolish enough to underestimate the Lycans like these young nobles. For them, the Lycans seem all but tamed pets. Funny that they’re separating the weakest of a faction and calling them not-threatening. Have they ever really met a fully grown Alpha, let alone a pack of wolves in their full strength? 

“But doesn’t Hampshion have Lycan slaves?” Mendes asks carefully. Perhaps he’s more considerate with his words on wolves with his seemingly close connection to the wolf prince. Louis guesses.

“A few. But their presence in households are rather subtle.”

“Guess the difference is they are treated nothing but bed slaves.” Hemmings remarks, and both Mendes and Jeffory glares, which Hemmings easily ignores. “No it’s true. I know many of the court that takes on a different face when he’s in their rural houses. It’s rather ruthless for the slaves. But here in the capital, they have to be careful not to over do anything because another with different opinions can easily step in. Slaves are safer here in Germia because it’s out in the open.”

“Yeah? And that worked well with the incident with Lord Rockwell’s slave.” Timothee argues, “Fucking King’s gaurd joined in with the whipping session like it’s some sport. Doesn't matter if he was in the city or Rockwell’s village mansion. The matter is that slaves are just disposable.”

“True.” Jeffory lines his forehead warily. “The poor sod got thrown into the dungeons for disobedience on top of the abuse.” he adds in, calmly for the first time. 

“Unfortunate that.” Hemmings blurts out drunkenly. “ He was a rather good one too. Pretty, nice tight body. Skilled but not as timid as he looks. I’ve had him several times is Rockwell’s house balls. Guess Rockwell lost his patience with him.” He reveals thoughtfully as Lady Ronnan hits him with a dirty look. Jeffory looks at him pointedly with raised eyes. “What,.. it’s not like I’m the only one to share slaves with Rockwell. You own at least six dear Jeffory. Don’t tell me you’ve not swapped them with Niall’s at least a couple of times.” he says pointing an index at Jeffory.

“No. Can’t say I have.”

“Shame. Never took either of you for the jealous type. Don’t pretend you don’t bed them though.”

“Oh I do… if they are willing.” Jeffory admits with a smirk as both Mendes and Hemmings burts laughing. Clifford seem to try and contain it, though his face also cracks.

“Willing?” Hemmings blurts. “They are Lycans. Seems like a pretty low bar to cross.”

Sipping on his drink slowly, Louis keeps quiet. Prospect of lusting over Lycan slaves is lost to him. He always thought of it as a play of power than anything. Why else would a Vampire look for carnal pleasures with weaker gender of their natural enemy if not for the sole purpose of superiority? It sounded more like an unspoken revenge on the race than anything else.

“Lord Tomlin, you seem quiet.” Jeffory states calmly, surely noticing him watching them impassively. Rest of their stares find Louis as well. 

“Do I?” he asks casually. “Just enjoying the general conversing. I’m a foreigner to the ways of the capital, so...”

“Does that mean you haven’t had the pleasure of the Lycan whores yet?” Hemmings snarls almost, as if he was utterly offended. “You’ve spent a night in Germia without a body to warm your bed? That itself is a crime! Where’s this city’s hospitality?”

“I’ve been offered.” Louis reasons, not wanting to drag attention to this more than it already had. He’s not used to the open discussion of bedding practices like everyone else in this shameless city. “I haven’t had time yet. After a long time, there’s much to do and see in the city.”

“Of course.” Timothee says, “He’s an intellectual. Unlike you lot who think from the cock first. First thing Hemmings looks for when he steps into a new place is something to fuck. Rest of them are no better. Lycans may have been contained. But they let the pretty little things to bewitch them on bed.They even keep their own herams.”

“And you being bewitched just standing next to a one is any better?” Mendas laughs sportingly.

“Admiration is what I have! Nothing more” Timothee states as Jeffory and Mendes start arguing with Lady Ronnan joining in with a high pitched laugh at something one of them say. And Louis finds himself lost in the banter, with voices and laughter rising above each other.

He starts sipping on the drink again watching them argue as Hemmings turns to Louis. He’s quite drunk it seems. 

“Don’t listen to him, Lord Tomlin… don’t listen to any of them.” he says dramatically leaning closer. “Listen to me… Lycan slaves are the most exquisite. Attentive... obedient. They have a natural trait is to please on top of their training. They live to serve. No questions asked..”

“Oi Hemmings, stop talking or your cock would start dripping.” Jeffory amid the chaos, breaking away from the wordsplay asTimothee and Mendes starts laughing at something together - hinting that they both may be just behind Hemmings on intoxication. Maybe it had more to do with the hazy smoke around them than the drinking...

Hemmings puts his loose arm around Louis shoulder like an old friend, turning him away from Jeffory. “Ignore him and listen to me. Only me.” he slurs. “You My Lord.. you should let yourself acquire a one. Forget about all the crap about the frictions and respect and bullshit. You haven't lived until you’ve fucked an Omega Lycan. They’re as loyal as running hounds, wild as harlots in Damask and coy and tender as virgin lasses.”

Lady Ronnan stomps her feet. “Hemmings!! Mind your bloody manners! That’s awful!”

But Hemmings continues… “shh!! - no really… they do what you tell them to be. No less. No more. And a fair Lord like you might actually be better off as a master unlike most of the sadistic bastards in the capital.”

Jeffory Bursts out laughing at that, leaning forward and pinching the bridge of his nose. “He might have a point though.” he blurts wiping his laugh teared eyes at the end. “You would save at least one from the capital if you can take it home with you.”

Louis just smiles, wondering what help rescuing a one unfortunate soul could possibly do. Maybe it won’t be a bad idea to take some and leave with the Resistance.

** ** ** ** ** **

After a while Lady Ronan starts ranking the costumes of the crowd, fighting and arguing over with Clifford and Mendes... which seem to be a thing. (“I mean what absolute fuck is that? A tree... How deprived of ideas can you be? ” Sure the costume in question is a white up to bottom with its silver stigs and four branches coming out of the ruby etched neckline like an extended collar. Tall and space consuming, it passes marginally without getting tangles in the crystals on the roof.)

Sure, Charlotte and the twins would have probably enjoyed this more than him, because Louis really couldn’t care less. And Jeffory doesn’t seem to be too invested either, drinking away to the banter of the young. 

“Come on... it’s a stand out.” Clifford yaps about the bloody tree noble. “And doing it quite well to be honest.”

“More like _ stand tall _. Hidiously idiotic? What is he? A tree elf? They don’t exist! Timmee, tell him.” she shakes Timothee’s arm urging his attention. But whatever he’s looking at in the crowd while sipping the wine has him distracted… his expression light.

“For goodness sake, Timmee. Stop drooling over.” Lady Ronnan blurts. “He’s going to catch you watching him.” 

Timothee ignores her and continues watching the same direction with star eyes. Jeffory and Louis levels eyes to see where his gaze is at…

“Timmee just admires Lord Starlinson.” Lady Ronnan tells Louis and Jeffory in a matter of fact tone. “Thinks he single handedly stopped the war by martering himself to a forign King at such a young age. And of course, that he’s quite fit.” 

Timmothee turns, unfazed by the tone of her voice. “I mean, what's not to admire… he’s made a place for himself in the King’s court.” He sing songs in a deep voice. “ And look at him. Look and tell me if there’s anyone else is as fine looking as him in the room. You all wish to get your hands on him secretly but pretends otherwise. At least I’m honest.”

“Honest?” Mendes smirks with a laugh. “Watch this…” he gets up holding his goblet up and calls across the room, “Harold!!!”, waving him to come over.

And just like that Timothee ducks, cowering down, holding his drink tight. “No.. no. no no!!” he grits his teeth as the others howl laughs. “Not funny at all Shawn!!”

They all marginally manage to control the cackle as the one and only Lycan prince ambles closer. It suddenly hits Louis red that the last thing he wanted for tonight is to face the prince. It makes his grin freeze and die in his face.

Almost all the gazes around steer up at him, including their groups’, going in to a strange silence - some even making way for him. And the prince, with his shimmery sheer attire, green penetrating eyes and perfect hair seem to be aware of the attention, the same as earlier amid the drooling crowd. But he hardly acknowledges any of it, focused on his calm, phased walking. 

He leans on the couch where Timothee is sitting with his back to the prince, eyes strictly on his nervous hands. 

“Hello my favorite courtiers and non courtiers!” the voice comes in a musically dragging monotone, even a little smug. His sculpture like features lines to an articulated smile on poison red lips that looks as if they are perfectly painted on his ivory skin. There’s a paleness to him quite similar to the way he looked when Louis saw him in his private chamber rather than last night in the feast… the thought again brings flashes of prince’s naked body in the promiscuous position to his mind - which he pushes away down deep in utter guilt. 

“Thank you, Mendes forgiving me an excuse to escape the most dreaded talk I had for the whole day.” He purrs as if they are all his closest friends, “I mean what would I care about his family not wanting to move to the capital. Like who wouldn’t, unless you’d rather taste stale wines and go about winging that your only source of entertainment, the theatre, is boring.” He brings a mocking crooked smile to his face. “But anyway, out of pity I suggested that he should take back few most fetching fashions like gem embroidered corsets and silk hats back to his rural home from the capital as gifts and lure them to consider. And he had been nagging me for more suggestions like forever. So...” He breaks off as if he suddenly realised the group is there. 

The entire yapping makes Louis’s head spin. So he just stares, like… what? 

The Prince hasn’t properly greeted or acknowledged anyone yet (not even the lady), but all eyes were on him, apart from Timothee - who seem to be biting his lip nervously, trying to listen to the voice behind him. And they were all deep in fascination, including Mendes’, even if it is in a bit milder level than the others perhaps he is more acquainted with the prince. 

“You are looking graceful today, Lady Ronnan. Pretty like a lily.” he says then sleekly, as if he practically heard what Louis thought. The young lady blushes pink and bows, earning a stare down from Timothee. Which Louis is sure the Lycan prince sensed in someway. Because he puts his heavily ringed hand lightly on poor lads’ collarbone as if it’s the most casual thing to do, soothingly rubbing on without touching any skin directly - continuing to talk to others as if he’s unaware of the young noble’s bane, his voice, the same calm. 

His very demeanor , leaning next to Timothee; Louis could see the strange appeal around him in a way. The undefeatable charm, almost childlike - especially when he smiles with dimples lining on his cheeks - is a flux of innocence, while his engaging persona rains pleasance. But there is something that doesn’t seem quite right about it all to Louis… because it feels so very contrived. There seem to be much less behind the excited green brightness in his eyes than he lets on, as if it’s nothing but an empty house. It’s not the exact vacant expression Louis saw in them through the peephole, but something more artificial … or ostentatious. More he watches the way prince engages with everyone, the more he notices - 

“Harold, doubt you’ve been officially introduced yet, this is Lord William Louis of Tomlin, nephew to the King. He’s been away from the city for years. But you must be familiar with his art. He’s an accomplished painter.” Mendes decides to say in a pause then, waking Louis back to the conversation. “Harold here is a great admirer of art, Lord Tomlin, and his talent with the harp is second to no one in the capital.”

The Lycan prince turns his head to the direction, his hand still on the young lord who looks more relaxed now. But the first one the prince look at is Jeffory, sat next to Louis - watching him silently with arms bound on his chest. Jeffory hisses a small smile as the prince winks at him before tuning eyes at Louis. And for the first time since he’s been around the princes’ presence, the greens looks at Louis, unblinking, attention intentional. The gaze rakes Louis up and down as if assessing every bit visible - his lips lined between a smirk and an inviting smile all the while. It must be quite endearing to anyone else, but all Louis feel is an amusement over his outright boldness. 

There’s a moment’s delay of action between them, but then Louis decides to stand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Prince Starlinson.” he bows courteously. Mendes, who was standing as same as Louis, looks down. The Lycan Prince’s eyes darkens just for a moment. But then he speaks all bright and stars.

“Pleasure is all mine, Lord Tomlin. The King must be thrilled to have you back. And so is the Crown _Prince_ . Nothing beats a family reunion.” he weights on the word _ Prince _ a little, expression lightly searching.”

Was it offensive to call him a Prince? Louis wonders hesitantly. “I’ve not met the King yet. And I’ve never been acquainted with the Crown Prince, my lord. So I wouldn’t have a clue.” Louis lines a gentle smile at the green eyes, holding his intense gaze. “But my personal experience, the families can be difficult.” 

Lycan prince studies him for a second, his eyes unblinking. And then his expression changes childlike just like that as he smiles. “Oh, I do like a sceptic.” he chuckles. “Especially when they are outspoken. Did you try those sweet wine soaked olives, Lord Tomlin? They taste impeccable.”

Louis blinks, unsure about the rapid change of subject. What..?

Green eyes shine brighter in front of him. “Yes,” the Lycan prince nods as if it confirmed his thought. “A sceptic.”

Jeffory shakes his head while Lady Ronnan chuckles with her petite hand on her mouth. But the rest of the group stares between them dumbly. The Starlinson either had a terrible sense of humor or he’s just off the point. Louis couldn’t help raising an eyebrow at the prince’s smug face. “Aren’t we all?”

Lycan prince chuckles again, “You must come join us in the luncheon the day after tomorrow, Lord Tomlin, I feel like we’re good friends already.” he says cheerfully. “Jeffory, you must insist Niall.”

“Jeffory should insist me on what?” a southern accent comes from behind and Louis looks to see Niall (still with his mask on) walking towards them with another taller one. It takes a moment for him to realize that the taller one is actually a soldier in Kings’ guard livery, not a noble dressed up. He’s probably the personal guard to the Lycan prince who Louis saw yesterday at the grand feast. 

“I-” the prince pauses turning, he stares at the arriving two “I was inviting Lord Tomlin to our luncheon the day after tomorrow. You don’t mind do you?” his tone is suddenly different, the cheerful demeanor lurching into something else. When he turns back to the group, it’s with a bit of a strain… but next moment his expression is nonchalant. 

“Of course not. Lord Tomlin, you should come. I was going to insist anyway.” Niall says brightly, in such a contrast to the prince’s changed tone. Perhaps he didn’t notice. “I’ve managed to get the Willow Ranch. It’s going to be grandly pleasant.”

“Oh, how did you manage to do that? Willow ranch’s not lend to any. It’s King’s personal property.” Hemmings inquiries in a surprised tone. 

“With the courtesy of the favorite Lord nephew. The King was more than happy to lend it since I’ll be hosting it on your honour my Lord Louis - as well as to celebrate the anniversary of course. So you’ve got to come.”

“Can’t say why I shouldn’t. Sure. I’d be glad to, Lords.” Louis looks from Niall to the prince again who looks distracted now, seemingly rather reserved, and in thought.

And then he speaks, not even moving to raise his head. Not to Niall, or anyone in the circle.

“What drove you to tail Lord Horan here, Grimshaw? Have you switched ships and moving to Horan’s now?” his voice comes dry as same as his perfect features. 

He had removed his hand from Timothee’s shoulder. Louis notices.

“I would happily pay him to do that. I mean I’ll sleep better with him in my guard for sure.” Niall says as the prince smirked to himself, ever so slightly. 

“Grimshaw says his highness the King summons you.” Niall adds. “Shouldn’t take too long, you’ve never missed the lanterns. You’ll manage to rush back won’t you?” he places a light hand on the prince’s fur cape, feeling it gently. 

“Yes.” he says impassively, finally looking up at the group. “I guess...well?” his smile is carefully perfect, similar to the way the bronze curls brushing his ivory face. Louis doubts everyone looking at him with star eyes notices… but he does. A barricade of something that his emotionless eyes covers. Louis fails to read it. And it amuses him. 

The Lycan prince leaves, just like that - followed by his personal guard, Grimshaw - with no extended farewells or lingering gazes. He barely looks at Louis. And the rest of the group just continues with zero to no hesitance.

** ** ** ** ** **

…….

** ** ** ** ** **

“Hope Timothee and the young courtiers didn’t give too much trouble, Lord Louis. They can be a little overbearing at times with their open views.” Niall’s eyes shines he stares at the sky next to Louis by the lake. His had golden mask rests on top of his head now, dragged up to finally reveal his face. 

“Not a bit. I enjoyed the company.” Louis smiles, gazing back at the scattered amber lights. 

“Thought you won’t mind. Open views are much more tolerable than pretend sophistication... or lets say insufferable bragging.”

Louis chuckles without a word. Niall’s not wrong. 

River banks were filled with crowds, yet the nobles had reserved spaces. Numerous amber lit lanterns rise up to the sky slowly one by one above the lake. Many more are floating on the water underneath among the reflections of light. The wind is mild and just right in the summer night for the lanterns to take off. The lantern festival seem to be a spectacle to watch from the start, a marvel. 

Louis is much less drunk than the most around them… and so had Niall, probably due to his hosting duties. Bright and light-hearted Niall de Horan seem to be at first, but there is also a flare of seriousness and dutiful about him…Louis notices. Young Timothee, lady Ronnan, Mendes and even Jeffory was swaying on their feet looking at the sky like there were in some lit up paradox. It is possible that they might have taken a bit more stronger stuff than wine. Though the legality of such intoxications are questionable in the capital. Clifford and Hemmings are nowhere to be seen as well. Louis has a feeling that they are lying somewhere in a corner, snoring off the night.

“Is there really not any celebrations in Hampshion for the anniversary victory?” Niall questions, his eye still on the sky. He sounds casual but curious. Louis smiles crooked, because it reminds him of the earlier conversation they had with some clueless nobles.

“Nah, don’t think invading Homas became anything more than a dinner conversation there… neither in most of Vampire towns in Emorous as far as I know. Other than conservatives whining on getting mixed up with Lycans. Concept of victory was irrelevant to them as long as it concerned wolves. But now the Lycan slaves had become a thing that’s been spreading. So who knows about the future.” Louis sighs, Not sure if he should linger on this subject. “How about the South, Gallagar?”

“My Lord father does every year. I was a wee lad when Gerald joined the King’s army. But I do remember the victory.” his eyes brighten in nostalgia. “Our father hosted a grand ball to celebrate the win. He was proud father...Gerald serving as the second in command to the King’s army and all. We were all stoked. Best memory is though me and the lads getting drunk in the halls and waking up the next day in a whore house two towns away... with no clue how we got there. Father had to dig us out from a hole… and threatened to kick me off the family tree. But yeah, every year he gives this Ball and invites at least half of Gallagar - opens more than a dozen casks of wine. Not sure if it’s for the victory, or if he cares about Homas either, but… yeah.”

“Sounds entertaining…” 

“More of an excuse to drink I suppose....we southerners like to drink, as same as the folk in capital like to show off.” 

Niall's voice trails as he turns back to the sound of metallic armour clicking pointedly. 

There were soldiers of the castle guard everywhere, but approaching them were several from King’s guard in their black uniforms and badges of golden dagger pinned to their chests. Ahead of them was one of the most handsome faced Vampires Louis had seen in his entire long span of life. He’s olive skinned, ebony haired and tall, eyes... a perfect hazel and thick lidded, with sharp boned face framed with facial hair which made him older than he probably actually is. Dressed in black top to toe, with just a ring that flashed a dagger in gold - he looked sleek and an epitome of pristine darkness.

His ice cold gaze is pointed at no one but Niall de Horan. With the black clad soldiers following him right behind, it was like a dark cloud ascending in their direction. Jeffory and few others seem to have frozen in their feet with a considerable distance. Or maybe they are all just too drunk, Louis assumes.

“Wondered how long this was going to take.” Niall mumbles more to himself, regarding the incoming Vampire calmly as Louis spares silent glances between the two. And he gets the feeling that Niall hanging around him is not really unintentional.

Rumbling of the grass under their hasty boots cuts the sound of the breezy wind, and the murmurs of the few onlookers. The black clad Vampire gestures the soldiers with his hand, to which they fall behind a step or three, letting him forward. His face, livid, glances at Louis momentarily, with a hint of hesitation that disappears as he glares back at Niall outraged. So far, everyone he’d met seem to adore the young solicitor… his bright presence. The one approaching them now seem to be the only exception. 

** ** ** ** ** **

“Is it hard for you to keep your limbs in your fucking territory, Horan. Or do I have to remind you that I don’t appreciate when others meddle with my business?” The strangers’ voice is harsh and smokey. As if it is layered under something floating. And Louis couldn’t place the thickness of his accent.

“Evening to you as well, Lord Prince.” Niall offers in a contrasting patience, with an absence of a bow or anything remotely close. Tension in his posture was rather evident. “Forgive me… but as far as I’m concerned I don’t meddle with any of your business. In fact, I prefer to keep my business as far as I could from your business. Even got my spot moved several blocks away, so you can have all the space your heart desires, _ Zayn _.”

It is the straightest face Louis had seen him does so far. And Niall doesn’t blink.

_ Zyan… _ so this is the wayward prince. With the very manner he held himself, Louis had a hunch. But he looks the least what Louis expected from whatever he’d heard.

“- the fuck did you barge in to ours then?” Prince Zayn demands, eyes fuming louder than his low toned voice. “Lost your way perhaps? Or just thought you’d stroll in and get the mutt off to heel? Hope you managed to impress your throng of guests, showing him off. Did he play fetch as well?” the tone is rakes in sarcasm and spite alike.

_ Mutt? Play fetch? Did he really say them?_

Suddenly there is a cloud of anger in Niall eyes too. He takes a step forward passing Louis, who decidedly remains silent. Whatever this is, he’s not sure if he’s meant to witness it. But there is no chance that he won’t.

“Really appreciate if you quit using that word out in open, Zayn.” Vehemence in Niall’s tone comes as a surprise, with his blue eyes daggering up. “One might think the influence your goons have on you is far greater than you them. It’s concerning more than I can press.” The contrast of his bright yellow garments against the Prince's black was evidently too much. Even at this hour.

The Prince glares, eyes ready to freeze anything in front of him with spite. But Niall seem unfazed, even dangerously calm. He folds a hand on his back, standing tall in front of the other who’s an inch or two taller.

“-and if you want your cocky herd of thugs to keep playing this game when ever you decide to stumble down here, make sure you’re around before things go out of hand.” 

“What I do with him is none of your business!” Zayn snarls venomously… eyes threatening in a way that would choke anyone. 

But Niall seem less affected. “No... it’s really not. I won’t fucking bother to spare a gaze.” Niall spits in disgust, though his body strains as Louis watches from the back. He leans towards Prince Zayn’s livid face, fist clenched. “But it_ is _ my business when your goons think it’s their bloody feast! And if you think I’ll just stand by to let that happen, you’ve lost it than I ever thought possible!” 

And before the Prince utters a single word with his scowling face, Niall draws his hand and drags off the hideous golden mask from his head… “Want to know why I was there?” He demands, dropping the gleaming item between them on grass. 

Zayn’s eyes find the mask on the ground.

“They tried to make him wear that…- and he tried to resist.” Niall throws with a continued disgust. “You might need to tell them to back off at least until the festival’s done or things will go out of hand.”

Zayn’s face, dark and muddled, is fixed at the mask on the ground... and Niall’s at Zayn’s. The momentary silence between them is cold and tense. Even Louis feels it without much of a clue about what’s going on. Whatever it is, it seemed like an ongoing quarrel. The mask Niall had been wearing seem to know much about the ordeal than anyone. Or maybe perhaps Jeffory, who looks rather concerned some good steps away, even as drunk as he was.

Prince’s expression is impassive as he steers his gaze back to Niall’s again.

“You should know that Monty’s adamant on punishing the slave who ratted, thanks to you.” he says in a dry tone then, as if he’s saying something hardly irrelevant. “You can warn the Lord Executioner to try and spare him if can tomorrow. But I doubt it’ll make a difference.” 

His anger had replaced with an authoritative calmness as he takes a step back to leave. The soldiers move to the sides, but he only takes a few steps back without turning. “If he has a problem with Montgomery, he can sort it in front of me without hiding behind you. I want him back in the tent within the next hour. Pass the message.” Prince’s imploring gaze lingers a second longer before he turns to leave.

“I would…but,” Niall breathes, making the Prince turn his head back at him. “- he was summoned by the King. Doubt he’ll return this late with lanterns all gone and done. There’s no point.” Niall sounds relieved as he says, almost gratified. “But I’ll tell him if he returns.” 

Prince Zayn stares at Niall, his face going dark and solemn in an instant. His jaw tightens as something unreadable in his eyes intensifies. But then he turns back, continues to walk away without a word of response, his ring of soldiers following him back. 

Niall watches them for a good long minute before turning back, leaving the mask to lay on the grass. Louis catches the way he looks at Jeffory pointedly as he walks back. His face, is one that managed to dodge an arrow.

Niall gives a tight smile as he approaches Louis. 

“Forgive me for that, Lord Louis.” He says in a sincerity. “Frivolities of the celebrations at the capital tend to lead to minor frictions at times. We Vampires forget that we’re too vile and cynical to have fun at times. The Crown prince unfortunately is not excluded in the matters. I should have made introductions, but guess it’s not the best of times.”

Louis crooks a half smile. “Seemed not. Later perhaps.”

Sure it was strange to have such a sidelined encounter with someone he shares blood with for the first time. He doubted if the Crown Prince even knew who he was. For some inexplicable reason, Louis finds him wondering what his reaction would be, when he does. 

** ** ** ** ** **

The lanterns floating above are scattered in the sky, higher than most treetops. Many in the water are already out of reach. Nobles and festive goers had started thinning except the soldiers of the castle guard. They start strolling along the river bank, finally calling it a night. Jeffory and few others were following them a bit behind. All their chariots were waiting for them in the far corner. 

“You have to excuse Prince Zayn for his outburst earlier, Lord.” Niall brings up as they walked. There is a trace of guilt in his voice for some reason. “One would assume that he’d be more cautious with ways seeing you as a stranger, he usually is. Travel stress seem to have meddled with his temper.” Niall sounds apologetic.

“Well…” Louis shrugs. “I won’t expect any better from a Maniac to be honest.” 

It makes Niall laugh. “He’s got stuff to deal with during his visits. And his band of friends has a tendency to clash with some, to make matters worse.”

“The Lycan Prince?” Louis asks casually, and Niall looks at him, taken aback. But wasn’t it obvious that they were talking about him?

“Umm… yes, the Lycan Prince particularly.” Niall says carefully, looking ahead. He clasps his hands at the back, face clouded. “King’s ward and the Zayn’s friends have a tendency to not to get along.”

“I was surprised to see the Lycan Prince getting along with anyone in a city. He seemed quite at ease earlier, even loved by many.” It is an observation more than anything. Obviously the Resistance and every Lycan he met before stepping in to the capital seem to despise the Prince. Sebastian, back in the Resistance’s camp had warned him to stay away even. But inside the capital, the situation could not be more opposite.

Niall’s face softens a little as he grins. “It’s hard not to love Harold. He’s a charming fellow. An effortless charmer. Only Alpha I would call that. But then, I’ve only actually met him for one… though I have heard stories. Horrendous ones.” Niall reflects for a moment, his clear blue eyes thoughtfully directed afar. “Harold’s always been different. Even my Lycan slaves vouch for him. They adore him.” His tone seems to be wrapped in a weary sadness, his face shadowed in concern. “They would jump in to save him even if it means they’ll lose their own heads.” 

Prince Zayn had warned earlier about punishing a Lycan slave for ratting out… as if it was a bitter revenge. Does it have something to do with that? Louis wonders. 

“If I know anything about Lycans, it’s that their blood is thicker than anything else. They are loyal to their own even if it kills them.” 

“True… fascinating creatures they are. Never seize to amaze me to tell the truth.” Niall grins. “Omegas … you wouldn’t believe - they can feel the presence of an Alpha within half a mile. And loyalty is carved into their bones. Especially to an Alpha. All the Omega Lycans in the capital, they are obedient and dutiful to their masters for sure. But their devotion for Harold is unmatchable. I’ve seen it with my own slaves too many times. Although as I said, it’s hard not to fall in love with him regardless. You saw him in the crowd today. He can be extremely winsome when he wants to.”

That is one way to put it. Or maybe the Lycan Prince is quite good at pretending. He seemed to know what to do to please. Louis remembers the dull, calculating expression his green eyes bore, carefully covered with an eager brightness and appealing flare. The unreadable coldness. Is it possible that it was due to the clash he had with Prince Zayn’s band of friends? 

“The Crown Prince doesn’t seem to share the sentiment though.” Louis points. It was hard to miss from earlier. And unsurprising. A clash between the Vampire Prince and the Lycan Prince is to be expected, even one is stripped off the power.

Niall bites his lip looking ahead. “It’s complicated.” he says a little distracted towards the end. 

Louis follows his line of vision to see someone approaching them. A long raven haired noble with a bearded face in an embroidered dark velvet tunic and a lengthy cloak. A coutier, Louis is sure he saw him last night at the head table. He must be of the same age as Louis, or maybe a little older. His expression is of a relieved one, directed at Niall mainly, though he bows at Louis as they draw closer.

“Lord Horan, I was told there was an encounter. Nothing too concerning I believe?” the noble’s eyes are curious as he studied Niall. Louis feels the question is weighted than it actually sounds. 

“It was just… Nothing to worry, My Lord. Guess he wanted to have the last word.”

The noble nods as it made sense. “I was delayed earlier.” he apologises. “But you’ve managed to sort things much better than anyone could before I arrived.”

Niall shrugs at that and hisses a smile. “I do what I can, My Lord.” he sounds almost weary when he says, “I’m not sure if it’s better or worse, you can never see an end it seems.” Niall sighs. “Did the invitation for the luncheon find you and Sarah? Javis said he had to pass it to your butler since he couldn’t find you.” 

“I did. Thank you. Sarah was delighted. Saw that you’ve managed to secure the Ranch… impressive.”

Niall grins, half turning to Louis “All in courtesy of Lord Louis here. The King’s beloved nephew, Lord Louis William of Tomlin.” Niall announces, the grim weariness in his mood replaced with brightness. “- and Lord Louis, forgive me for my clumsiness, I should have made the introductions before,” 

Louis bows lightly at the noble who stares at him with a tight smile. If expressions could be compared to animals and creatures, this noble would undoubtedly be an owl, with his naturally inquisitive eyes. But after a long list of meetings and new introductions, Louis’ mind is lethargic taking him in… not because he’s uninterested, because it is going to be another rich noble connected to Niall. So he finds him casually smiling without even sparing a word, until Niall’s words nearly chokes him out of his head,

“- please meet High Courtier and advisor to the King, Lord Micheal Rowland.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do love your thoughts as always!!!! please don't be too angry with me for the delays. I'm already gutted!!  
And as mentioned on top notes, if anyone have suggestions on how to upload artworks, please let me know. All the love!!!


	8. Trials, verdicts & convictions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really did wanted to post this chapter much sooner but I wasn't that much of a good place with writing. And since it's end of year, there's so many things happening and I totally got caught up with it all. Thanks for all who inquired and waited for an update. I know I'm really slow with them most of the time, but what can I say. I won't post it unless I'm at least half happy with it. And well, this chapter is one of those hard to write, again - because many things are happening. I might come back and do some editing later, but guess there's no point holding this any longer.
> 
> As for the content of this chapter, I hope we've established that this is not a kid's story. There will be some disturbing themes, blood, violence and heavy angst. So if you're not up for it, this might not be the story for you. Please do heed the warnings!!!

_Noris Grimshaw_ steps into King’s private chambers as summoned. The heavy gilded doors creek shut behind him with a dragging screech. Metallic stench of warm blood, sweat and sex flares his nostrils hard as he does… Weak, gurgling breaths drag behind the soft sloshing of water. But otherwise the room is painfully silent. He threads cautiously, careful not to make a further sound.

A white marble tub had been placed a few feet away from the large four poster bed, facing the window as if to soak the rays of the morning sun. Beams fell on the marble surface with a glowing shine. The bath looked comfortably warm, but is shaded in a dirty brown diluted by red. Resting his head on the glistening edge, the King, Benedict Mainac sat in the tub as the two maids poured water on to his sturdy physique dutifully. The King’s eyes were shut, but Grimshaw knew he is aware of his presence. 

Not interrupting his majesty the King, Grimshow heads towards the bed with light steps.

Red. That’s the first thing he catches at first glance. Red. 

It was everywhere. The sheets, pillows… all over the bed. The prone, naked figure laying odd angled on the bed is covered from it. The Lycan looked pale, drained with his modesty barely covered under scarlet drenched sheet… limbs, limp and broken all over. The silver muzzle Grimshaw secured on his mouth last night had been torn off, revealing shocking white, parted lips fighting to breathe. His open eyes had a white glaze over the usual green - turning him completely blind, though he might be conscious to to his surroundings somewhat. But it is nothing new... or shocking. Grimshaw had seen it before - the way the Lycan boys' body shuts off under over exhaustion. What worries him though are the gashes on his body, deep and bleeding out whatever’s left - especially the one on his neck, across the throat - which seem to have damaged the windpipe, resulting the rough gurgling sound as his lungs wrestles to sip air in. Anyone else would have been dead already with such a harsh damage, Lycan or not… but the Alpha sprawled between the blood-caked sheets is a different creature altogether.

Would moving him make the bleeding worse? Will it tear the flesh more if he is lifted? He wonders for a second, but the delay seem to irritate the King.

“...the fuck is the hold? Take him away!” A growl comes from the bath.

And Grimshaw hurries. He wraps the blood-soaked sheets around the limp body unceremoniously, covering his body entirely including the face, so the random servants would not get eyefuls. Lifting him up without a delay or much gentleness, Grimshaw carries him out - away from the chambers, without further risking the wrath of the King...

Gintel was waiting for them in Lycan Prince’s suite as expected. 

The old Lycan maid freezes as she realises that the Prince is not on his feet, but being carried wrapped in bloodied sheets. She eyes him scathingly and alarmingly. The old woman probably had been phasing around since dawn, maybe since last night as same as the day before, Grimshaw could tell. Sure, the King summoning the Lycan Prince on the feast night was unexpected, let alone the preparations they had to make afterwards to tend to the Lycan. But yesterday, once the Prince was called again, the outcome had been nothing but obvious. 

Surely Gintel knew what to expect.

Grimshaw doesn’t place the Prince on his neatly arranged bed. Instead, he carries him into the inner bathing area with Gintal following him at toes.

“Where are you taking him?” she demands. “What has the King done??!” she already sounds hysterical even without having seen the Prince. Well, the maid was in for an unpleasant surprise.

Grimshaw doesn’t bother answering. He puts the wrapped up Lycan down on one of the moonstone slabs and turns to the maid without bothering to peel the bloody sheets off. The maid’s eyes are horror struck, but this is hardly unexpected when the King takes the Lycan in for the night. Only thing is that the full moon is still days away. The King must have been in a terribly foul mood if he was this rough with him even without the damned moon hanging over the Lycan’s sanity. Much worse than yesterday where the Alpha Prince managed to walk out in his own feet even in his weak, ill form. The Alpha won’t be able to attend the court tonight after this, Grimshaw thought. Least of his concerns, yet maybe he should inform the King.

“Clean him up. I’ll request the King for Lord Grimas’ assistance if needed.” he says leaving the maid to attend to the Lycan as she rushes past him to the Prince, snivelling like a real mutt. 

…………….

“These are fresh out of Narakh, My Lord. Some of the finest of the batch”. The slave keeper presses, not for the first time. He makes sure to stay a step behind while strolling past the best of two dozen slaves on display, so the high-born would be able to have a good look. This new set had been specially intended for the King’s guests in the festive season - well groomed and in best condition… he’s sure the noble would pick one out of the stock. Since the castle is paying, he’s ought to get even more than one. Anyone would, the wealthy have a peculiar connection to free things, ironically … But he’s not sure about this Lord though - the King’s nephew, apparently. Generally any Vampire who step in here has an eager excitement looking at the exquisite slaves, but the royal nephew looked rather impassive. 

“Narakh seem to send an endless supply.” the high-born says with an inquisitive tone, as if he was puzzled by the number of slaves on display more than anything. Perhaps he’s having trouble selecting.

“They do, My Lord. Otherwise it’s hard to keep to the demand, especially during this season - but we keep special stocks reserved for the castle, under his majesty the King’s command.” The keeper explains.

The Keeper wonders how many slaves the noble owns already. He’s sure he could top any product from anywhere since he’s always get sent the best out of the best in the capital.

Nodding, Louis tries his best to hide the utter resentment towards everything around this very place. Scented candles, gold threaded silk drapes and painted walls, everything makes him want to turn back to the door - the line of pitiful souls on their knees degraded to mere objects of pleasure more than anything. Heads bent, knelt on mats that are either red or white, the slaves seem to hide nothing - a willing display of submission. They were all naked, the young males who are all only marginally tapping on adulthood, except for the golden collars and on their necks and cuffs around their wrists.

The mindless obedience the slaves are demonstrating irks him to the core… lives turned into ornaments with no will or thought for their own. 

When he agreed to step in to this heinous city a few days back, the last thing Louis thought he would do is consider owning a slave. A Lycan slave... But that is exactly what he is doing two nights in to his stay in the capital. The sun is truly setting on him, James would say. And he didn’t even want to think about what his mother, Lady Tomlin would say if she knew. But it seemed like he is out of options... Not only because of Yaagine, the housemaid who kept pestering him, but also what he had heard yesterday from several trustworthy acquaintances including Lords Niall and Jeffory about Lycan slaves’ favourable qualities that would assist the task he’s been tiring to get through with. 

Loyalty and obedience apart, Niall mentioned that omega Lycans could sense the presence of an Alpha within half a mile. And what other quality would Louis need to simply find Klaus than an Omega Lycan who would be loyal to him. True, it would be one of the strangest things he’d done in his entire life… to acquire the service of any kind from a Lycan in whatever way. But he could leave the boy with Resistance when this is all done, and Louis is confidant any Lycan slave would be in much better situation far away from the clutches of the capital anyway from everything he’d seen until now. So he would be doing the Lycan a favor in payment to his service instead of just using it. 

“Disciplined and trained extensively, on white mats are the ones that are timid and obedient, while the slaves on red are coached for more rougher uses.” the keeper goes on again, dragging the short black whip behind him as he walked, perhaps to intimidate the slaves to impose his charge. “But you can make use of them anyway you intend to, Lord, gentle or rough. Their primary instinct is to please regardless of their capacity. They have a high tolerance for pain and unsatisfying thirst for carnal pleasures.” he smiles slyly admiring his products.

Louis really wished the keeper would just stop talking. Because he needed to get past this without further feeling brutish and loathsome about doing this. He sighs… there is no reason to be picky, truly. The only traits he’s looking for seem to be etched in to any Omega Lycan’s skin. Loyalty and sensing an Alpha.

“Him.” he says, stopping at the next one he passes without really looking at the Lycan boy. A dark haired one with pale skin and a lean built. Louis notices as he looks at him. The boy looks rather young and petite… he could use some food if anything.

“Excellent choice, My Lord.” The slave keeper smiles, his yellow teeth creeping in between his thin lips, tapping the slave boy to stand with a light wave of his whip. “He’s obedient and well mannered. Trained in ruby house with maximum tolerance to pain that it would surprise you.” The keeper steps around the boy whose eyes are cast down still in his standing form. He runs a rough hand along the Lycan boy’s pale torso, “Nice lean muscles, sensitive and responsive.” reaching the boys’ soft nipple he squeezes it hard, making the boy shiver. The keeper’s hand next moves along to the neck, dragging the boys head up by his slightly longer hair, exposing his face that looked emotionless - despite his clearly raising heart. “Perfect and practiced mouth, he could give a demonstration on request.” Louis just stares at the clearly terrified boy as the keeper looks at Louis expectantly. But when nothing comes, he turns the boy, displaying his naked back and running his hand down the buttocks… “Full in right places, ready to use -” he says edging two fingers at the Lycan boys intimate places,

And Louis’ seriously had enough of this.

“He’ll do.” he says eyes fixed on the keepers’ face rather than the boy. “I’ll buy him.”

The keeper looks slightly surprised at his uninterest, but seem recovers soon. He leaves the boy awkwardly and unsurely standing on his red mat, and -comes near Louis again.

“I’ll have Ellis, my butler settle any payment needed. Send the boy to the mansion when things are ready.” Louis says, wanting to get out of the place as soon as he could. Not only because of the cringe his entire body was suffering just being here, but because he had stuff to do, people to meet and places to be than in some recreational slave pen. He has to work out a way to get in contact with Rowland for one, without drawing attention or suspicion from anyone, including Ellis, for the butler’s own protection. 

Sure, the slave Lycan boy might give him a solution to that. 

“I would deliver the package before midday, My Lord. Any preference in the placement of the branding?”

Louis stares. “Branding?” he repeats. And mid day is hours away.

“Yes, My Lord. Many prefers the back, but some like to display it in other places such as the face or buttocks. It’s your call, sir.”

Louis blinks, finally getting what it’s about. “That’s not necessary.”

“But, My Lord… we can’t release him without branding with a house that would vouch.” He almost looks hesitant as if something he said offended Louis.

Louis looks past the keeper, at the boy who simply stands there with his eyes cast down again. What are they branding Lycans with? Wolves have natural healing conditions that would make it impossible to scar them physically. So how? unless...

“Wherever is fine.” he settles to say without dwelling too much. Last thing Louis wanted was to draw attention from the Keeper on his business. But the slave boy with Tomlin house sigil branded on his skin is a complication he did not consider. 

He exits the display hall with strapped with guilt and meddling with irritation. In four days he will be able to leave this madness behind again. And there will be no looking back. At least he would be able to free this one Lycan boy who would bear the mark of Louis’ house on his skin forever. He hoped it is a smaller price to pay than be some wealthy Lord’s pet in this vile city. 

Stepping out searching for Elise and his carriage to his utter surprise, Louis finds the chauffeur in conversation with a familiar face he didn’t expect to see here in the capital. _ Baskar _, the trader from Damask. Louis’ mother’s gossiping merchant. Sure, the man travelled around the country with his stack of expensive goods for the wealthy and privileged, selling away everything to anything… but what luck it is that he’s here when Louis decides to step in to the capital after half a century? Well, it is the festive season, so there’s not much surprise to it if thought about it in another way - it downs to Louis. Baskar though, looks delighted… and happily surprised, especially to see him walk out of the royal slave house if anything. Great timing he has - Louis knows.

“What a pleasure to see you here, Lord Tomlin.” the trader says with a hand on chest and a bow, taking a few steps towards Louis’ approaching form. He is a lean Vampire with long raven hair, a beard to match and crazy eyes a top a long crooked nose. “Great time to be visiting the capital I must say, Lord. the best of everything happens with the festival.” he puts a crooked smile with a brief gaze at the slave house behind them. “Hope you are having a marvelous time.”

“I am,” Louis offers impassively. 

The trader surely is thrilled to find him here of all places, titbid to spread around the high dining ladies he's friends with when he returns to Hampshion.

“Family business. Castle business rather.” Louis says as the trader’s smile wayns. Tomlins’ connection to the crown is common knowledge. “What brings you to the slave Quarter at this hour? Lycan whores?” Louis shoots before the Vampire, who blinked nervously… perhaps not expecting a direct inquiry.

Yes, the trader did travel around, but he’s hardly a Germian-born. Where the concept of Lycan slaves is a measurement of wealth in the capital, it is still a taboo around most of the country - and is a guilty pleasure behind closed doors for many who did not live in the city. Lycan slave trade is even looked down as an immoral low-line if anything. In a way Louis felt more familiar with this gossipy trader than almost all of the Lords he had met here in the capital within these few days who had Lycan slaves etched into their beds and lifestyle like beads to a fancy tunic.

“I - I was requested to do a trade on the way to Damask, My Lord. I’m here for a purchase.” Baskar is nearly apologetic. 

Perhaps it’s Louis turn to smirk, but he lets it drop. “Hope it goes well then. Your instincts on products are nothing but the best. Mother always says so.”

The trader suddenly looks pleased and glad to be appreciated rather than mocked. The light in his eyes changes looking at Louis.

“I hear the kind Lady Johanna Tomlin did not join your hasty voyage, Lord. I managed to find the blood rubies she had been asking me about for a long time. Could have given them if she was here. But I guess I would have to offer them once I go back to Hampshion in the next turn over.”

“Mother is not too keen on travelling. And Germia’s the last place she would travel if she could. She has you to shuffle around and find the things she wants.”

With a hand on his chest, the trader bows again in a dramatic way. “I’m humbled to be of the Lady’s service. And of you as well, My Lord.” Baskar says. “Our stay is at the Burks Inn at the Rosegoose lane in the trader’s quarter. I’m glad to be of any assistance to you in this strange land from one foreigner to another. Be it something, anything that you want, I’m the one to look for, My Lord. ”

And just like that, Louis couldn’t believe the luck that suddenly paved his way. Baskar is a trader, probably known by many. Surely he has resources and endless freedom around the city to go wherever he wanted without drawing too much attention.

He looks at the trader sheepishly and smiles. “Well, in that case, I have a favor to ask.”

  
  
  


When Louis arrives back at the mansion, Yaagine tells him that Lord Horan is waiting for him in the parlor. It surprises him because he wasn’t expecting Niall today. For all he knew, there is some formal gathering of the King’s counsel tonight with the participation by all the courtiers.

From what Louis understood from what was explained to him by Mendes and Timothee last night, it’s nothing but another tradition set to put Homas in trial all over again. While the rest of the wealthy and prestigious celebrated at an exclusive garden party from early hours of the eve, the courtiers are to attend the court trial for selected Lycan prisoners. The one and only time the Lycans would get a trial in the King’s court… either to be relieved from the castle dungeons to go back to their masters, return back to the dungeons, or proceed with graver sentences.

As Louis heard, it is usually an enclosed event y for the King's high counsel and advisers. Even Niall had never been to the trials before. But with the ten year anniversary celebration, all the courtiers had been required to come in this time. And as a solicitor in practice, Niall had offered to assist his brother, Gerald, the first in command in the castle guard with preparations. So it is a surprise that Niall is here today, sprawled out on a long divan in the lavish parlor of the mansion, sipping on a goblet while waiting for Louis.

He smiles winningly seeing Louis enter, un-sprawling himself up to a sitting position.

“Lord Louis.”

“What a lovely surprise, lad. I wasn’t expecting you today. Are things in order ?” 

“More than they should even be.” Niall sounds much more cheerful than yesterday, and genuinely happy. There is an exciting aura about him that makes Louis think he has some sort of good news. He is dressed quite formally with his house sigil pinned to his chest. Strange, because the court proceedings would be in the late evening as he heard, and it’s barely even midday. 

“The capital seem to agree with you, Lord Louis. You fit right in with the endless errands and socialising just like one of us. It is strange to think you would be leaving in a few days.” He says thoughtfully. “Once lived in the city, it’s hard to be otherwise as I’ve heard.”

Louis grins. “Ah… old ways catches up, even after all these years. I’ll be sad to leave, but relieved at the same time. I’ve seen too much in this city to dwell too long. I’m quite happy in the far corner where nothing happens.”

“Some may disagree. Personally I would be thrilled if you stayed a bit longer. I’m sure the King feels the same. Which brings me to the point of my uninformed visit…” he gets to his feet from the couch and sets the goblet aside a table. “The King had sent his greetings along with an invite for you to join him in private lunch at the Rose room, Lord Louis.” He sounds honored to have carried the message. “I’m here to escort you to the castle.”

A light flashes across Louis’ eyes with his stare blank at Niall for a split second. 

_ The King. Private. Lunch invite _. Right… he should have considered the prospect more seriously. 

“I assumed the King would be quite engaged today. A pleasant surprise it is.” he chooses to say, nonchalantly. “I am delighted indeed.”

“The King rarely invites anyone for private meals, My Lord. Your presence must be really special to him. Especially if he’s hosting a lunch for you today before the court’s gathering.”

Hopes that the King Benedict might personally invited him to Germia just out of courtesy or as a random gesture suspends from his thoughts just like that. It’s not that Louis didn’t know it at the back of his mind anyway. He’s no stranger to the sly calculating ways of his uncle, the King. Focusing back to the young courtier still looking delighted by his hazy reaction, Louis manages to line up a smile. 

“Must be.” he utters carefully.

…………………………

“Drink. You’ll feel better.” his voice sounds rough just by the lack of using it, wheezy almost. The shaky hand holding the worn-out cup looks even worse - skin wrinkled and ash despite the low light. Few chest hairs on the Lycan’s body look white and his hair a dirt mixed silver, so Klaus knows he’s old… and a Beta, one of the few in the dungeon.

“Makes Better…” he repeats through clattering teeth, it sounds erie than it should with the rest of the silence. 

“What is it?” Klaus mutters, trying to keep his head steady in his curled form. He fails utterly.

“Water.” the old Lycan replies bringing it closer to the Alpha’s lips, still shaking as in a habit. 

What wouldn’t Klaus give now to get a sip of anything that would numb his awful state of mind. What wouldn’t he give to have a drop of Taylor brews - something that would just put him to sleep and end this nightmare to wake up beside a warm body and soft sheets… But no, all he seems to have is the hard, damp ground and a few drops of water out of a worn cup owned by a decaying Beta - in a dungeon full of equally wretched Omegas. He gulps the cool water down greedily though - as the other offers the cup to his lips.

Late last evening, Soldiers had drugged him with vervain and put him into this cell with several other Omegas who were across his cell. There were only few Betas in it, curled into its walls - as if they’ve been in it forever. The death cell, the Omega’s had called it - the cell where they herd the prisoners going to face the wrath of the Vampire’s co called council tomorrow. To be accused and judged in front of the laws set by the undead Vampires for the rest of the fractions … for entertainment and a sheer display of power. 

Prince had been tormented to the edge of his wits last night - Klaus felt everything right into his bones. He had spent the night terrorizing everyone in the dungeons with his withering form and muffled howls as if he is on the edge of sanity on top of his haziness from the effects of vervain. For Omega wolves, to be in the same cell… this close to him, when he was suffering from an utter emotional and physical turmoil must have been a taste of living hell. Must be the reason they are all curled up, scattered in corners.

“It won’t take too long now.” the old man utters curling down a few inches away from him. “It’ll all be all over soon.” The old Beta says. There is an unsettling finality in his tone which Klaus doesn’t like.

It is as if he thought of death would comfort Klaus, when it fact it did not, not even remotely so. He would be leaving the Alpha Prince in this hell pit to be tormented and pulled apart like a piece of meat, to fend for himself with the weight of his kind on his shoulders - all the while being chalked as a traitor in front of the rest of the world. He could not die with the knowledge… he can not bear to be buried with the harrowing thought. 

The cold is freezing him, his burning head and wrecked-out body is choking his own breaths. But the fear of what is at stake with his death was much worse than any of it put together. He, the only Alpha who had been able to get close to the Alpha Prime after all this time - is going to fail the Prince with his own death… 

“Death is the only blessing anyone can hope for here. Yes…” old Beta mutters again in his side, and Klaus realises that he had taken a seat beside him against the wall. “Yes.” Sunken face, bare chest and hunched, skeleton of this Lycan must have been here for more than he should. He watches Klaus’ shivering form with haughty eyes - devoid of the usual calm and content flare present in a Betas’ eyes. “You’d be the luckiest Alpha to have set foot in this dungeon. To get the trial in days.” he shakes his head, rolling the cup in his hands with eyes on the worn metal. “Only days… only days. Death... is a gift.” 

Maybe the Beta is losing his marbles. Klaus can’t really blame him. But not everyone seem to tolerate the muttering.

“Shut it Gaddof. Gibbering makes the Omegas fucking lose it. Can’t you see?” 

Someone else growls from a corner, probably another Beta. Klaus is too tired and worn to try and find out. And there are other voices around, complaining that it's the least of anyone’s fault that Betas are stuck here rotting since as long as they can remember. Klaus couldn’t keep track - he didn’t have much strength to either. Complaining Betas and terrified Omegas are the least of his concerns at the moment. Bigger things are at stake. 

“There’s no way out here.” the old Beta, Gaddof goes again, ignoring the growl. His voice now in a babble of words. “Only death… death… or life long servitude.” he hums to himself with movements back and forth - perhaps the old gaffer has lost it to his solitude. Klaus closes his eyes curling closer, feeling drained and weak. Prince must be waking up from whatever the sedation he must have been in. Because finally the haze in his head seem to clear up a little as the old Beta’s voice gets clearer in his ears.

“Death is the only way… death. Relief. No Lycan comes down to the dungeons and goes free... unless it’s to death - no one. Not even the Prince.” The Beta’s ramble continues - but his last coherent words makes Klaus opens his eyes again.

“The Prince?” Klaus repeats, unable to stop himself even in his weak state. “When was the Prince in the dungeons?”

……..

Gintal wipes a tear off her face thinking he wouldn’t see, turning away to place the half empty soup on the tray the other maid’s holding. He must be a picture of harrowing misary for the sombre maid to shred tears just by looking at him. Harry just stares - feeling weaker to strain a reaction, or move a muscle. Maybe the soup would help as Gintal had kept saying as she fed him while he lay like a corpse on the familiar sheets of his bed. His body felt boneless, torn flesh in several places still hadn’t really healed - including the ghastly gash at his neck. He could feel it.

The Beta maid looks calm when she turns back to him. She doesn't say a word, but starts sponging his face with a soft warm cloth gently. Warmth of her presence and the press of her old touch soothes him, blurring the despair crawling in his heart. She was the only one he had, only one that cared for him without a gain. He watches as she drags his sheet further up after as if she thought he’s cold - maybe he is. Harry wasn’t sure. He just felt feverish, and sick to his toes. 

The maid still avoids his face though - uncharacteristically. There’s something in her solemn face that looks rather sore no matter how much she tries to hide it. Harry could tell. Is she disappointed that he's this weak today of all days? The court won't start until late evening, but he could hardly move a muscle on his own. He would let down so many today... So many of his kind who wouldn't have a voice in front of stern eyed, unforgiving King's close council. He's going to fail them all.

Gintal soon leaves without so much as a word to him… and it makes his heart ache. He thought she would sit by him as she usually does when he’s this useless - at least until he fell asleep. 

But when several others walks in as in a cue with her departure, Harry realises why she was really upset.

Grimshaw stares at him with his usual stony look, impassive and cold - as the omega Lycans behind him stare ahead with dead and vacant eyes, waiting for commands. Compelled then… his heart sinks.

Black clad Vampire soldier steps closer, there is a scroll at his hand. Harry didn’t have to guess what it is… he already knew. He glares at the Vampire until he looks down at the scroll in his hand.

“Lord Starlinson, his Majesty, the King strongly suggests you to sign the letter.” his voice is carefully calculated.

Anger shoots through Harry’s veins despite his weakened state. The King had tried to get him to sign it last night as well, which he blatantly refused; making the King go livid and mad. The death warrant for the one Klaus Hugarstarlin - only the King didn’t really know who he is, just an Alpha who tried to kill Harry. If he had any idea that Klaus had Royal blood - the consequences would have been gravely different. 

The moment the King asked to sign the warrant last night, Harry knew what he had guessed all wrong. It was never about Zayn, or his grudge over Harry that grows when Zayn’s around. It was about the other Alpha in his clutch - the only Alpha who managed to get past all the guards and protection and reach Harry. The King wanted to get rid of him permanently without a glitch, without Harry standing on the way. It’s all been nothing but an exercise to keep him away from the court today. 

Grimshaw gestures to one of the Omegas, who brings a pen and ink while Grimshaw unrolls the scroll carefully.

“I’m not signing that.” he says flatly, not attempting to sit up. He knew he would fail. “Go tell the King I said so.” His voice comes weak, yet venomous. It must have looked pathetic, given the state he’s in, sprawled helplessly on a bed after being drained out like a gutted sheep.

Grimshaw doesn’t show it though. He just watches him for more than a second as if to give him time to consider. And then turns to the Omegas standing behind him with hazy eyes.

“Get to it.” he orders them. “Fetch him a bath first. He’s burning up.”

It takes three Omegas to lift him off the bed covers and carry him to the tub. He doesn’t protest, he couldn’t even if he wanted to. The lukewarm water feels soothing on his skin, and the aroma appeasing his edged thoughts... until two of the Omegas gets into the tub, crowding the space with their naked bodies over his. Their hands reach for his intimate places, joined by their warm mouths… aiming to arouse him in his limp caged body.

“Just the bath today. Please…” with no strength to physically protest, he begs as one settles between him, parting soaked knees with gentle hands.

“The King’s orders were clear, sir.” Grimshaw’s voice “His Majesty needs you recovered by the full moon. No exceptions.” the guard's tone brushes in combined anger and duty. 

For whatever the reason, it beats any fight out of Harry. “_ Take everything when I give you, Edward… even this.” _King’s mocking voice rings in his ears as he surrenders to the attention of the compelled Omegas while a single hated tear trickles down his face.

.........................................

The Royal palace entrance is a quick ride from the Louis’ temporary residence, which is attached to the castle’s west wing. Niall insists that they ride on his carriage - and Louis agrees. On the way, Niall again presses on the fact that the King rarely gives any guests private audience. He looks earnest as he speaks, and genuinely considerate - Louis could tell.

“His Majesty’s been careful with his interactions lately, Lort Louis. Forgive me if I sound intruding, but I’ve grown fond of you in the short time since we got acquainted, and wouldn’t want you to meet the King unprepared.”

Maybe it’s the young courtier’s way of warning him that the King’s raving madness had taken a turn to paranoia now. Well it can’t be anything Louis hasn’t seen before. But if he did have concerns meeting the King, the last thing Louis would do is talk about it, to nurture the thought - technique is everything in deflecting. So he just smiles, “Not at all, Lord Horan. You need not worry. I’ve met my uncle before,” he states tonelessly. “Probably at his worst. But I do appreciate your concern.”

Soon they were walking on the high roofed corridor leading to the King’s private diner, passing gold decorated pillars that stood tall like giants reaching the ceiling. Illustrated murals with captivating floor mosaics elaborated the beauty and luxury of the castle above all else in the capital. Sure, the castle was a stylistic masterpiece all those years back - but now with much added decorations, it is a dazzling marvel. But what amazes Louis more is the over pouring presence of the royal guard around the place. Soldiers of King’s guard in black livery stood in each corner like statues of death itself. Louis can’t help but wonder if it’s because the King is in the floor or if it’s the normal protocol. 

“I will take my leave now, Lord Louis.” Niall says as they reach the guarded closed doors.

Louis initially thought Niall would be joining him in meeting the King - but seems not. The black clad guards open the door for him as Louis looks back at Niall.

“I have some duties I must look into in the throne room but it would not take too long.” Niall says in a low, more formal tone than he usually sounds. “I will be at the front parlor to escort you back to the Manor, My Lord.”

Louis just gives him a nod and enters through the doors held open for him.

Rose room, the King’s private diner is through another gold plated door. He’s sure he had been to the room before... the lavish dining chamber with a long gilded table and elegant crystal chandeliers hanging over it. With everything that he’s pressing to shield under his mind, his memory was vague on some things at this point. But the framed paintings, silk violet and rich gold decorated interiors triggers them all up easily though, he realises. If not mistaken, this is the exact room Louis last met his uncle, the King, when Louis told him that the Tomlin family is leaving the capital for good, all these years back. 

Ironic coincidence perhaps - but knowing the King, Louis wouldn’t be surprised if it’s intentional.

The food has been already served, plates filled with finest delicacies… their aroma rich and smooth. Faced back to the door, on the head chair, sat none other than Louis’ uncle - the one and only tyrant King of the kingdoms, the conqueror, King Benedict Windsor Mainac. 

As he enters silently, the King waves off his hand, not so tamely, at the two maids that stood either side of him to assist in need. Louis takes light steps, not keen to intrude, but the King’s posture is up, as if he’s been waiting. 

“Took you long enough… Louis.” The King says without turning. 

His tone dull, edge of mocking - same as Louis remembers from years back. “Led me to think your mother’s nuisance had infected you for good. But you’ve finally come to your senses.” 

He pauses, turning his head only half way back, without really looking at Louis. “Care to join your King for a meal?” he asks, gesturing to his left.

Louis steps towards the table, letting him come to the King’s view. Turing, he stands facing the sturdy, noble Vampire the world feared, hated or both - the mad tyrant King who raged a storm over the kingdoms and turned it to his and his kinds’ fortune. His ebony hair and bearded long face looks the same as Louis remembered years back, now with a permanent crease between his thick brows. The King's eyes are dark, calculating, as he measures Louis’ face in a mirthless expression. Louis knew the King couldn’t read anything out of him - not unless he is willing to let him. His uncle hated him for that more than leaving perhaps.

“Your Grace…” he bows his head, breaking the thread. “ Thank you for your invitation to the celebration. It was unexpected… and irrefutable ”

King Benedict scoffs. “If I’d known that slamming some private messages would bring you here, I’d have started doing it sooner. Sit, please. I’m in a mood to eat.” he laughs as if he’d just gutted a wild boar he hunted. “How’s your damn mother? Bored out of wits I hope.”

Louis drags a chair and sits without further protests. “She’s well,... thank you.” he says pointedly.

“I hate the woman, but admire her guts. Managed to guilt trip the whole lot of you out of the capital for this long. I got to give it to her.” King Benedict bites into a chunk of meat as a maid pours wine for both of them. 

King Benedict hated his brother's wife, Louis, mother... and she him. Louis’ sure they both had their reasons, way before Louis’ father’s passing. But it’s the next question that makes him stare at his uncle with fire in his eyes.

“And the girls?”

He picks the cup and takes a long sip before saying anything.

“Well, I guess. The ones in Hampshion at least.”

The King nods, sensing his flare of anger for sure. But he seems to ignore it completely, much to Louis contempt. It is as if the King had chosen to forget about the chaos in Academia…how the fires took over the premises and destroyed half the place, with or without the faults of King’s troops … causing hundreds of scholars, including Louis’ sister to burn or disappear into thin air. How he refused to grant help when Louis tried to go and save Felicity… issued commands to block all the roads to Academia, isolating the location until it was too late. 

“Of all the places you could have moved and called home - you and your damn mother decide to call Hampshion home of all places. The rural wasteland with bogs and forests. I’ve heard it never even reaches a real summer, ghastly weather with rain all year through.”

“Summer rain and a little snow is common in the area. Yes.” Louis claims tucking his anger with a frown. Is there any use arguing with a narcissistic redge in the epitome of power? Or expect to see any sort of atonement at all? Seem not. 

“I fear to think what the winter looks like in your new territory. Does the trees turn to cubes of ice? I wonder.” King chuckles, digging in to a juicy pork rib greedily with a hunger that did not seem to subdue.

It sinks Louis’ appetite for anything edible to the bottom - even in front of the display of vibrant plates and dishes .

“Winters can be hard. But you get used to it with time.” he admits.

“And the time you had, for sure.” King swears with a mild bitter taste. “You own half of the farms there now, do you not? I’ve noted the seal in records from the Treasury.” 

Louis just shrugs, not sure why his uncle would care. Unless… 

“I must say that you’ve gone far to try and become a rancher from a white knight and a courtier, Louis.”

Louis crooks a smirk. Yes, there it is… the inevitable.

“I would rather place myself as an art enthusiast, uncle. Our farms are managed by a staff that knows what to do much more than me.”

“You can call it what you may. But can’t deny the fact that you’re wasting your capacity holed up in a bog no one cares about. Who gives a damn about ruddy art in grasslands? Deer?” the King demands harshly, slicing his pork slice neatly, this time.

“Well, you’ll be surprised, uncle.”

“I need you to come back to court.” the King says outright this time, his tone demanding. And it surprises Louis in a way that his uncle chose to be direct with it. So he just stares openly at the King. “The realm and your King requires your service. It’s time you returned.”

Louis turns his gaze to the table filled with excess of dished and fruits. He doesn’t trust his train of thoughts to be digestible to the egoistic King if spoken out without filtering. 

“Though honoured I am that you think I’d be of any use to you here in Germia, uncle, I can’t see how that’s possible.” he settles to a calmer tone. “We lost too much within these city walls, me my mother and my sisters, you Grace... I doubt we can ever call this city our home again.”

The King sighs, his facade of arrogance momentarily replaced by something reflective. “Family.” he says the word as if it carried a weight on his tongue. “Family is the exact reason I press for your return, son. Your family is my family.” he lays, and Louis miraculously keeps to his calm without scoffing, watching the King’s face turn grimmer.

“Things are at stake - things that need our attention. One might not see it outright but these are pressing times. I need good men about me. People I can trust. Who is better than your own blood?” 

Louis blinks blankly at the King realising he is required to speak.

“You Grace… I mean no impudence, but it’s no secret that I’ve had counter opinions to many aspects of your council rule by. The demands of your court doesn’t see eye to eye with my old fashioned views. The treatment over all factions -...” 

Louis cuts the rest of his words consciously as the King raises his palm slightly up with a glare at him. The explanation is certainly unbidden to Louis’ slight alarm. Maybe he should have heed the advice given by Niall and thread more carefully.

A moment passes, and to his surprise, the King hisses a laugh.

“But you do play under them, the rules in the end.” King states, his tone insistent. “You pay your taxes and make a run in the laws because it’s an undeniable necessity to be loyal to your blood and your King, Isn’t it?” 

“You Highness-” Louis tries, but the King cuts him again.

“My beloved brother - your father was in the same position at first when the war started.” He looks at Louis pointedly, “But he understood the greater cause, and futility of his misplaced empathy over those who don't deserve it.” 

There is a pause as he goes back to his meat, chewing away thoughtfully as Louis remains silent. 

“We’re blood family.” King Benedict throws, “We have had our differences, but to protect the crown we must be put the differences aside. Enemies are in every corner we turn, and opportunists waiting for a chance. The Resistance is just biding time to get on their feet, to flame anything that might burn... and the Lycans are scheming with every ounce they’ve got to restore their cycle of power - to seize back what is rightfully ours.” The King’s face turns to Louis’, the crease between his eyes tightening as he frowns, 

“They dream of a way to get their hands on their key to power… the Starlinson whelp. They are looking at each and every loophole, trying to find a way. And the devious little cunt is on his own agenda in his own miserable way... Waiting for a chance to turn against us despite everything that he’s been granted under our protection.” King spits bitterly, as if wanted to smother his own thoughts. “Strength is at stake on our side, Louis. I need persistence, loyalty and people I can trust - like my brother, your beloved father. There's nothing I trust better than my own blood. One day I would step down and the next in line would ascend to the crown. But it would not be easy to hold power with all the scheming and treachery piling around, unless the crown is strong enough.” Suddenly the King’s tone weights with something between thoughtfulness and concern. “Jarvid, you might not have met him yet, the Crown Prince… He’s skilled and loyal to his blood, - but he’s strong headed. He needs guidance and company that can nudge him to the crown he’d be appointed to someday. A hand that is constant and steady. I want him to have someone trusted as I did have your father to look to.”

“You Grace..-”

“I don’t need your answer now, Louis… take your time to mull things over. There’s plenty of time.”

There is? For all Louis knew, he’s going to leave this damn place to go back to his peace in as soon as he could make it. But knowing that the King would not let him speak a word of it now, Louis bites his lip inside choosing not to waste his words or energy, turning the goblet slowly to collect his thoughts. He looks up at the King after a few moments, feeling eyes on him.

“I believe you’ve met several of our courtiers during the few days you’ve been here.” 

The King seem keen to change the subject, Louis notices. He continues to trace his finger on the goblet surface, taking his eyes back to examine it’s texture. “I have. You Grace.”

“Hmm… Young Lord Horan is a bright young member of our court.. I would trust no one but a one like him to arrangements, knowing you. I believe he is making your stay pleasant for the least. Things have changed around here quite a bit, you might have noticed.”

Louis crooks a smile. Sure, the King considered an obnoxious patriot or an ignorant hedonist would make Louis run back to the gate and never come back. So Niall must be a winning move on his part. Louis cannot say it is a failed one either. The King made sure that he acquainted with similar mindards before actually meeting him. 

“I sure have.” He smiles. “And yes. Young Horan’s a pleasence to be around. I was surprised to see the likes of him among the uptight and ever so loyalists.”

King looks pleased, frown in his eyes going lighter. “Assume you’re having a good time with the festivities, then. Our master planners and the treasury have been put to hard work. Everyone expect no less than miracles for royal celebrations… and they’re lining up to judge how we honor the anniversary.”

“Approval is a flickery thing, uncle.” Louis points impassively.

King Benedict raises his brow. “True, half of the world would be disappointed at the thriving grandness and pretend to be unamused either way and another part won’t even notice. It’s a goose race. But pleasing the aristocracy is something else altogether. You can’t keep them and you can’t kill them.” 

Louis refrains from commenting, just settling to wince his brows knowingly.

King hisses a laugh. “But I’m going to freeze all their blabbering heads today.” he claims with a pleased smirk that lines up as he takes a sip from his cup, eyes settled to some vacant spot on the wall, in a flash of thought.

“I believe that you’ll find it most agreeing to find that Germia now assembles the High Council once a year in the courtesy of Lycan filth rotting in the castle prison.” The King says grimly. “I would have preferred to behead and be done with their pathetic lives without throwing them in the dungeons, but the Germia’s Court prides itself by voting for fair trials and justice.” He grins mockingly. “It’s been a matter of the High Council since it started, but the tenth anniversary calls for an audience. I’ve opened it for the whole Court this session. It’s time the aristocrats are reminded of the challenges and the power the Crown holds. Guess empathy has its uses at times.” King Benedict smiles crookedly while fixing his eyes on Louis, measuring him carefully.. 

“You must join us tonight.” He declares then. Louis just blinks. “It would be entertaining if anything.” The King claims.

Louis was not expecting that. To be invited to attend the King’s court… Sure it is a great honour for a non- courtier and an outsider of the castle, related to the King or not. But the sheer political aspect of it concerned Louis more than anything. Is the King trying to flaunt him to the Court like a show horse so he can hint on a united front of Mainics for the nobles? But on the other hand, one cannot decline an invite to attend King’s High-Council - especially if it’s an invite by the King himself. It would be nothing but total impudence.

  
  


That is how some four to five hours later Louis finds him in the crowded courtroom beside the King. Crown Prince, Javid - or Zayn, as Louis’s more used to by Niall and the rest of his acquaintances calling him - sat on the other side of the King. He had appeared late to take his seat, so Louis had failed to even share an eye contact with him, because surely there was some sort of a gazing match between the Crown Prince and the King. And it doesn’t go unnoticed to Louis that there is sort of a friction between the two that surely went far than lateness. Surprisingly, the Lycan Prince was absent… thought Louis expected him to be there, given that this is a matter of his own kind. But there was no sign of him or his fancy, peculiar presence. 

A straight faced Lord Rowland sat next to Louis, carefully avoiding any eye contact with him. With the direct change of Rowland’s reaction towards him, Louis knew Baskar must have done the delivery he requested. He hadn’t expected to face Rowland until tomorrow, since he never expected to attend court. The fact that Rowland hadn’t directly questioned him about what Louis had sent him earlier proved that they would soon be having a closed conversation, and Louis anticipated it more than anything… 

The hall is a circular room that is similar to a throne room in a way with its majestic two story, gold ornate roof and black and white mosaic tiles. The walls were covered with black velvet drapes embroidered with gold, leaving space for the wooden carved, high double doors. The King sat on the throne which was on a podium that rose several steps above the floor - holding the golden sceptre of united Emorous. The King’s party; the Crown Prince, and by the look of it - Louis, together with the High Council of Germia in full black gold robes of state, sat a step behind the throne. 

The High Council is the embodiment of power in Germia… all the decisions on state were made by the Council and their justice. Headed by King Benedict, three high Lords and two Ladies comprised the close circle, excluding the Crown Prince. Louis recognised Marquess Lorous, his late fathers’ acquaintance all those years back. And Lords Rowland and Edrus Gadlock had been introduced to him yesterday. Other than that, the only knowledge he had on the rest of the members were what he had learnt from the Athenaeum yesterday. So, the two ladies seated must therefore be Agnus Larment and Tagress Mayfur, while the odd, hooded figure seated next to Zayn should be Arlog Grimmas.

The rest of the courtiers, along with Niall, Mendes and several Louis recognised were on the lower ground seats, creating a circular void in the middle. Their attendance to the court today is a first time as Louis had been mentioned over. And it was visible from the excitement oozing off the many faces as they watched the proceedings. The King was right - it is all played right into entertainment for the most of them. In contrast, though, some in the crowd looked sombre or even worried. Several faces, including Niall and Mendes’ were grim and clearly contempt as they watched, though none seem to raise objections. 

On a short, circular platform in the middle of the room stood the accused, a Lycan slave at his ripping youth. There are restraining chains on the circular platform, but the slave only had his arms bound at his back. Eyes directed only on the ground, he seemed less interested in the accusations let alone uttering a word of defence. The slave had been accused of disobedience, treachery and insolence by his master, Lord Guss Montgomery, as read by the court-herald. It had been requested by Lord Montgomery that the slave is punished by the highest sentence due to the distress and _ damage he had caused, _ the herald read - though none were explained nor elaborated. 

_ Montgomery _ … Louis recalls Zayn’s mention on someone threatening to punish a slave for ratting out something to Niall - something to do with the clash between Zayn’s friends and the Lycan Prince. Was it _ Montgomery? _he tries to remember. Then looking at Niall’s face amongst the rest of the courtiers, Louis think it surely must be the case...

Not that Louis expected the trials to be fair, he knew the moment he was told about the tradition that it’s nothing but some sham to put away few Lycans. But being a front as it happens is harder than just knowing the fact. And the worst part was that no one was doing anything about it - including Louis. 

There was no counter argument or objection - so the verdict was clear for the High Council who could only vote otherwise. The accused is guilty. And would be punished under the highest sentence according the request of his master. 

_ Death by beheading. _

It feels nothing but a haze to Louis, when they announce the sentence. Clearly this court is nothing but an agonizing, cruel joke. He decides as the condemned slave is walked out, as the second is brought in without so much as an incident. 

When had a death sentence issued without a proven cause or a measured judgement been a normalcy for this Kingdom? And how? How is it possible that none in the court is affected enough to care? Lycan Prince’s absence, non-participation stands out like a patch on a garb to Louis… it is strange in truth. Isn’t this the trial for Lycan prisoners? Isn’t this his ‘kind’ on trial? If the Lycan slaves are loyal to the Alpha Prince like Niall mentioned yesterday, shouldn’t the Prince at least be remotely concerned about their wellbeing? 

How come the Lycan Prince is willing to attend the grand inauguration feast with mocking dance acts and lantern festivals displaying Lycan slaves like carnel ornaments, but not this? Seemed flaunting around in whimsical clothes and silver words while burning hearts is the sport he favored instead of caring for his own people. 

The second and third cases are not as bad, to much of Louis’ relief. One slave gets sent back to the prison because the noble master rejected the Lycans’ service anymore with a pre-sent letter, and the other gets released to their respective houses with heavy warnings. 

It seems to take the same pattern afterwards with occasional change of public flogging as punishment. There are no objections, counter arguments for the complaints logged by the Vampire masters against the Lycan slaves - or no thorough examinations or presented evidence on the petty crimes they’ve been accused of. And overall, the verdict or the sentence is decided upon the choice of the master that owned the accused slave, Louis realises. 

If that’s the cae, why even call this a trial, he fails to understand.

The monotony of the proceedings seem to bore the courtiers if anything. The novelty of seeing the Lycan slaves on _ trial _fades soon for the action anticipating rich, as it becomes evident that no gripping arguments or gruesome punishments would come to the stage. While midnight slowly reaches, the gathering in the chamber looks more lethargic. Even the herald’s announcement of last case for the year doesn’t seem to shake the crowd. Not until the prisoner was led into the courtroom. 

It was the sound of heavy chains and the armours of soldiers that start to raise interest among the courtiers again, because up until now, only one soldier was enough to escort the prisoners in. But this last one seem to require about half a dozen. Louis couldn’t really see the accused, surrounded by the castle guard, chained and gagged by the look of it. Unlike the previous slaves, his feet has been restricted too, along with the hands. It was odd, except Louis realises why… or his senses does, even before the soldier clad prisoner reaches the stand..

The prisoner is far from all the previous meek Omega Lycans they’ve brought in to the court during the whole span… Because it is an Alpha Lycan in full existence. The apex predator that needed nothing but a fickle of anger to kill. 

As small gasps of surprise and fear mixed murmurs hums around the chamber, Louis’ head start to run cold with further utter horror as he finally sees him, registering the unmistakable features of greased golden hair, green eyes and everything else confirming the person he’s looking at, though worn out, haggered form.

Klaus Hungerstarlin.

The very Alpha Lycan he’d come here for - the Lycan whose return is anticipated by the the entire Resistance. The one Liam de Payne of Larcoster called as ‘the last hope of Lycans.’ And it is as Louis had pessimistically guessed in the very beginning - Klaus had been captured alive all this time, no matter what his mission had been or how the King’s troops managed it. He must have completed or failed the mission, but for all Louis knew Klaus is going to fail on this court for sure.

As they lead the Alpha on to the circular platform, the soldiers clad with long swords and silver knives stand in a semi circle around him, ready to strike on need. But the Alpha seemed to be the last one to look intimidated. No matter how ragged, weak and worn he looked in his dishevelled appearance and humiliatingly bound ways, he stood straight with his wide shoulders and head straight - his daring eyes directed at the head of the state, one Vampire King. The fire in his gaze is threatening, burning with a vile and mad hate. Almost all the High Councillors look taken aback, clearly rattled by the presence. But the King seem to hold the gaze calmly - surely relieved at his high ground while the Alpha Lycan is chained, gagged and surrounded by multiple armed Vampires to act upon his command.

As the court-hareld takes his position, the courtiers lined in the chamber fall in to an anticipating silence - eyes unblinking as if not to miss anything. 

“By the supreme order of the high court, the peasant of Lycan faction present, stand accused of lying trespassing, thieving, dishounoring, fatally harming and lastly attempting grousome murder in the territory of the most esteemed capital. Single or all of the above actions which are punishable by the highest decree, if committed by a Lycan, for violating the long lasting peace and order.”

Whispers of unease seem to breeze around the crowd, but the court-herald continues.

“The esteemed supreme state accuse the Lycan peasant of latter crimes and request the High Council to sanction the guilty to public flogging and death by beheading. With the absence of the harassed party, or the appointed state Lord and Crowned Prince of Homas, King’s ward, Lord Harold Edward Starlinson, his majesty, the most supreme King of the united High Kingdom of Emorous, Lord Benedict Windsor of Mainac would pass the sentence by the power stored to his Lordship by the venerable Council.”

Murmurs of shock and scepticism start rippling through the courtiers as well as several members of the High council. Sure there were faces of anticipation and even satisfaction, but it was clear the sceptical faction was greater than the other. 

With the white noise humming inside his head as he connected what is actually happening - and going to happen - it doesn’t take much for Louis to realise that very reason of him being in the capital is going to take a disastrous fall. Sure, he did voice this worst possibility to the Resistance, yet, it is the last thing he wanted to see happening. Should he warn Payne? Send him a message beforehand? But how?

“Your Majesty, the King, I beg forgiveness for my interruption”, one of the ladies of the High-council, dressed in black attire foot to neck with knitted lace gloves, addresses the throne with a respectful bow. “May I please speak, on behalf of some in this courtroom?” It is a humble request. With a stern, strong posture, thin but talkative lips and inquisitive eyes, one could tell that she is someone that had a steady voice in court. 

“You most certainly may, Lady Larment.” The King sounds as if he almost anticipated it.

“As I do find the announced accusations horrifying, unforgivable and extremely vile, what would attest to oblige the High-Council to take action against this pathetic creature. Without a physical reliable body to file a complaint, there is no proof that would allow us to pass the highest penalty, nor liability. Therefore it would be a breach in council law to condemn a Lycan to death in the capital without a direct crime to answer.” 

It sounded utterly absurd in Louis’ ear. Sure, he’d be more than glad if Klaus is spared under whatever outlandish law they’ve passed in here to favor their say. But they’ve sentenced that very first Lycan slave to his death without a spark of an objection, when his master appealed for the highest punishment, while the only reason they seem to question it now is that Klaus doesn’t seem to have a direct noble Vampire to accuse him? What a load of shit…

Who did Klaus harm? Who did he try to kill?

The chamber seem to ripple in low tones again, as courtiers started to whisper among each other. The lost excitement is brewing in the room again with enthusiasm for dramatics and ironic thirst for blood - this time of a Lycan whose clearly defiled the state law. 

On his throne, King Benedict lets out a satisfying sigh which probably only noticed by the ones closest to him. He marginally raises his free hand to his subjects who immediately fall into silence. He spares a momentary gaze at the glaring Alpha Lycan in his chains before turning to Lady Larment.

“I do appreciate your concern to stand by the law as always, Lady Larment. It is true that the extremely evil and shocking acts committed by the Lycan barbarian standing before you had not been filed formally to present to the court. Mainly because we were concerned of further schemes and heinous acts against the crown and the courtiers.” The King’s voice was calm, and authoritative. Silence follows it like a shadow with each of his words, all eyes drawn at him with complete attention. 

“As aware, our prime concerns lay with the state, and its well being. Prevention of violence and fear which are common and odious practices of uncivilized Lycan barbarians. The committed crimes in the castle premises were kept in secrecy to withstand scandal and public distress. However, with the light of the raised concerns, I believe it is wise to reveal the true extent of the crimes to this courtroom, so the verdict is justified!” King Benedict exclaims, his glare triumphing over the bound, gagged Alpha on his feet.

“The foul animal standing before you attempted to gruesomely murder none other than the State Lord of Homas, Prince Harold Edward Starlinson, the ward of the Crown... but failed. And the reason he was unable to follow the formal protocols were because he was fatally wounded. ”

The shock at the words ran in waves through the entire gathering, including some of the High-Council apart from Rowland and Zayn, who seem to be gripping the armrest with an unblinking icy stare at the Alpha below the platform. There is outrage in some faces and worry… Niall and Mendes sitting next to each other among the courtiers looked contempt but clearly not shocked or surprised. 

Did Niall failed to mention Louis of such a shocking act during the day? It’s seemed outrageous that it never came up… Sure, Louis hardly knew the Lycan Prince. But they’ve been introduced. They even discussed him last night after Zayn’s confrontation. It was strange that Niall didn’t think of mentioning a courtier facing an attack... even more strange because the Alpha Prince and Niall are seemingly close friends.

“As the caretaker of Lord Starlinson, therefore, it is my duty to convict this vile Lycan beast of all the crimes mentioned earlier, and see to it that justice is served! I sentence his wicked life to death by beheading in public!”

The King’s voice roared across the chamber as courtiers rose to their feet, applauding their fierce leader. There were no objections or arguments… only wholehearted agreement for the King’s direct verdict. 

This last sentence would have served the King Benedict’s purpose of entertainment with a high note and praise if only the double doors of the chamber did not start rattling open. It was utterly unexpected and uncustomary for the doors to open while the court is on proceeding. So the entire room turns heads with a pointing silence towards the door.

And there between the half open doors, to everyone’s utter shock, stood none other than the Homas’ one Lycan Prince, Lord Harold Edward Starlingson - in his ceremonial velvet red and blue, eyes directed at the King in an unblinking stance, resonating majesty and unavoidable grace in his weighted presence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's that. Let me know your thoughts, I'm a slave for them. Hope everyone listened to 'Fine Line'. What's your fav. song??? I've been listening to 'She' and 'Fine line' on repeat.


	9. Crown Prince Of Homas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Court proceedings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone!!!! hope the new decade is treating everyone fair so far. I know there's been several devastating things happening around the world at the moment ( including the terrible bush fires in Australia) I really wish the things will settle down soon and we'll all be able to have a better decade than the last.
> 
> Coming to the story, a lot of you requested a quick update due to the terrible cliff hanger in the last chapter. Well I tired my best, but with Christmas, new year and everything under the sun, this is the quickest I could do. And this is a short chapter. And I might come back and do some edits as usual. I planned it to be longer but due to my snail writing speed I'm posting this and adding the 2 parts I intended to have here to the next chapter. Without further jabbering from me, here's the chapter. Enjoy!

The chamber packed with the distinguished council and the courtiers fall silent enough to hear a pin drop as the Prince of Homas steps from the double doors to the throne.

All eyes were on him with shock, curiosity… even some pity. Klaus, in his bound form must have sensed the change in the atmosphere, with all attention on the figure moving forward. He manages to marginally turn his head back before falling to his knees, everything beastly and vile about him changing into a humbled astonishment in the presence of the Homas’ Prince. The guards around him stand in caution, but the Lycan Prince doesn’t spare the accused Alpha a glance nor any form of acknowledgement - not even a bit, for someone who tired to attack him.

The Prince's pointed glance is right towards the King and the High Council ahead him, who are watching him right back. 

His velvet red and blue garbs clashed mercilessly with Germian nobility dressed in custom black and gold, Louis couldn’t help but notice. It reminds him of the very first day he saw the Lycan Prince in the grand feast, singled out in red while the rest of the Vampire nobles kept to their blacks. With a high necked tunic and black gloves, the only skin visible of the Prince was his face, which looked plaster white against his dark mane of hair. Unsurprisingly, he seems devoid of joyous brightness and flare of satisfaction Louis had usually seen him with. Instead he held his posture straight as he stepped forward, placing himself just a step forward to Klaus. And for a strained second the Lycan Prince’s green eyes falls on Crown Prince, Zyan, who seem to be staring at the Lycan Prince with a strange expression. Then out of nowhere, his eyes moves to Louis, whose sat next to the King, at the opposite side to Zayn. His gaze suddenly turn cold and accessing, as if he’s seeing Louis for the first time in a much vilified light. It takes a moment for Louis to even assume why... the seat he'd been given.

According to it's placement symmetrical to Zayn's - must be the none other than the Prince's.

Lycan Prince’s eyes finally moves to the King, the one who had been watching him all this time, stood ahead of all the High council. With one knee bent, the Lycan Prince kneels down gracefully - carefully - head bowed just in an appropriate amount. 

“Your majesty, please forgive my lateness.” His voice is utterly polite and relaxed as he stands up again facing the King. But there is something subtle in the way he moved - deliberate and calculated that made Louis know that the Lycan Prince is threading for an impossible fight. And it was clear with his slight unsteadiness that he was neither at his best. The attack surely had taken a toll on the Lycan, Louis can't help but think.

“Edward,” King Benedict says, his tone pity filled and face empathetic. “This is not necessary. You should not have bothered yourself. We’ve almost done here.”

Louis could hear the dismissive flare is King’s words. It was clear that he didn’t want the Prince in the courtroom. The Lycan Prince seemed quite aware of the fact.

“I should object most respectfully, Sire. A wayward Lycan tried to harm me. And I choose not to press charges in Germian court. I request him to be sent to Homas for trial and then be held there until he pledges fealty to the Crown.” Lycan Prince looks calm. A hushed murmur starts floating around the chamber. The Prince’s request clearly rattling the High Council and courtiers. And Louis can’t say he's not surprised by the suggestion. But the King looked less so.

“The wayward beast intended to _ kill _ a royal blooded, you are the Crown Prince of Homas, Edward. Not a simpleton. Such foul crimes as murder cannot go unpunished within the walls of capital. This is Germia, not Homas.”

“But I’m alive, your highness." He state the obvious. "Should the most honourable Grmian Court be spending time and effort to sort disputes between two Alphas of the subservient Lycan faction? I think it as unnecessary.” His unblinking poise, faultless. 

Prince of Homas, for whatever the reason he was trying to get the court to spare Klaus, knew how to play - Louis would give him that. There were astonishment mixed consensus among the courtiers. But the King looked least in any agreement to the Lycan Prince. Seemed that the King almost expected this objection from the Prince. The Prince should without a doubt know who Klaus is... they are blood relatives. Is that why The Prince is tying to spare him? even if he tried to murder him? Does the King know?

“I can think of several reasons why it is highly necessary to administer his beastly crimes with the highest decree of punishment in Germian court, my dear ward. Least of all, the treaty that holds agreements between Germia and Homas presses that no such crimes are to go unpunished if a Lycan commits them on Germian soil. I, as the King of the state would not let violence be a normality in this land.” King Benedict stated, his tone marginally contempt. But not nearly enough to have felt threatened for sure. So No... The King doesn't know who the accused Alpha really is, Louis decides. 

“He was mislead, and acted upon them wrongly. But I strongly believe he’s repenting his actions now." Prince reasoned. "The attack was mild, and it failed. I’ve received no lasting damage, My King. Hence I plead mercy for him, as same as you’ve always shown my kind... including me, and to let him be sentenced in Homas court, .” Lycan Prince pressed, with an earnest vehemence in his tone and an appropriate bow to the King and the Council. 

It was a fair request, still absurd for sure for someone who tried to murder you - unless it's a blood-relative, but none in the courtroom seemed aware of the fact - all the previous cases and verdicts had gone the same way, in favor of the opinion of the accuser. And by the faces of the courtiers, it seemed they were thinking the same; especially in the face of earnest, polite grace of the Prince and his calm stature... though Louis notices a subtle shiver in his composure as if the room is chilly. The Prince was clearly straining to hold himself in his unmoving stance. 

The King takes a step forward on his high ground towards the edge, looking down at the Lycan Prince and the bound Alpha on the floor. His gaze is impassive as he smiles marginally. “I do understand your concern for Lycan faction, Edward. But a ‘_mild attack_’ is far from the truth from what I’ve been informed of.” 

The King gestures for a vampire clad in a grey cloak steps forward, and his young assistant carrying a covered silver tray. 

“Ardon, the royal healer for the High court of Germia.” the court- herald calls from a side as the Lycan Prince bows his head down with eyes pressed close for the first time since he arrived. 

“I was in-charge of attending to the Crown Prince of Homas through his injuries.” the healer explains, uncovering the tray and taking a long dagger that had about hand’s width to the blade by the hilt. The blade seemed sharp and had vicious spikes either side to fatally harm anything that it touched. “The Prince was stabbed with two of these daggers in midriff, fatally injuring and causing blood loss.” the healer continued as many in the crowd looked perplexed - some even gasped. And Louis could see why. It must be by some miracle that the Lycan Prince survived - no one with flesh and blood would have. How is it possible that he's standing there after such a fatal attack? Sure, he looks deathlike pale, but wouldn't it take longer to heal with wounds from such a deadly weapon? 

“Both the daggers were poisoned heavily with wolfbane. If not for extraordinary and unmatched healing skills of Lord Arlog Grimmas, it wouldn’t have been possible to save Prince Edward.”

The healer bows low and takes a step back with his assistant as whispers start rippling among the courtiers around the chamber. Knelt on the circular platform in the middle of the room, Klaus seem agitated, despite his perturbed appearance before the Lycan Prince’s presence in the courtroom. Bent head and shaking shoulders, he seems to be weeping with a devastation rather than fear. 

Feet away from the accused Alpha, the Lycan Prince still stood with his eyes directed at his feet. His heartbeat seem rather slow, and he seems to be struggling to keep his body from swaying, Louis notices. And he’s sure the King did too, with his eyes fixed on the Prince in front of him. Sure, Lycan’s are extremely resilient and had super healing abilities, yet the damage on him must have been beyond fatal. And it is crystal clear that the King is more than a little displeased of the Lycan Prince’s presence here, even to the point where he was even vengeful of it. Surely there must have been some dispute over the trial today, Louis could feel it. King Benedict’s vengeful mention of the Lycan Prince earlier at the Rose room was the first hint. And now, this whole set-up sensed rather tensed and absurd because it felt like it was the Lycan Prince who was on trial for the attack on himself rather than the agitated Alpha on the floor.

“Judging by the graveness of inflicted injuries, there’s no doubt that the attack was aimed to end the Homas’ Prince’s life.” King Benedict states. “And I will not let the wild beast responsible to stand trial in Homas, where vile crimes like murder is brushed off as acts of revenge or matters of dispute! It must be answered with stealth severe action!” 

The King’s voice of unquestioned power rattled every corner of the room. And most of the crowd seem to agree despite their assent to Lycan Prince’s earlier reasoning. The Prince seem to realise it, and looks up at the King with intent to speak… but the King cuts him off easily.

“No, Edward… you have my sympathy for your relentless hope that the Lycan faction can be civilized, taught out of the barbaric ways. I let you have your way regarding the matters of Homas and your kind as much as possible, but this is a matter of Germia. You are my ward, a royal guest in this country. Your responsibility is to hold peace between Homas and Germia. Not to cover up vile deeds and sympathise traitors to this nation. _This nation_ that protect you against the savages you are trying to save because you think they are your people. Believe me, child, they are less likely to attack any royal blooded Vampire than you! The High Council and I have agreed on the verdict and the treacherous creature will be punished accordingly, and publicly. It will set an example to the entire Lycan faction that such wicked acts are not tolerated in the state. ” 

It looked like a public flogging for the Lycan Prince than anything else, despite the state he was in. Despite the fact that he was the one who had been attacked. Louis fails to understand what the King is aiming to achieve by putting this friction between him and the Lycan ward out on display to the courtiers, who seem to eye the Prince with a troubled sympathy… the abandoned Prince in desperation for approval from his own people. Maybe it's his striking good looks and captivating charisma, or maybe it's something far unexplainably magnetic about his whole presence... but whatever it was, it is clear that the Lycan Prince had favour and sympathy of many in court for whatever the reason. It is foolish and risky to bring that out to test like this. A bad move, if King is trying to earn the favour of the nobles. Well, perhaps this is the least the King wanted or planned - maybe the rebelling, unpredictable stance of the Lycan Prince is just agitating the King to act rash. 

But despite it all, the look in the Lycan Prince’s green eyes are hazy and slightly unsteady. He seems to be fighting not one but two battles in the chamber, one against the King and his subordinates and second, with his own physique by trying to hold stand in his clearly weak health. But he seemed obstinate and reluctant to give in even when the decision looked inevitable. Clearly the courtiers could see his state, which perhaps doubled their sympathy for him. Louis wasn't sure if it was intentional on the Lycan's part or not, being here in the state he is. If it is, the Prince surely knew how to make his moves.

“Your Grace," he calls, "The treaty between our countries states requirement of the State Lord’s approval for finalising such a verdict if it concerns Lycan faction.” he sounds impassive, managing to fix his eyes on the King. But his breathing is uneven, and he looks as if he is getting paler, weaker with every moment he strained him to stand in the middle of the chamber… the effort costing him more strength than he could afford at his state. Perhaps he's more desperate than scheming. “And as the State Lord of Homas, I cannot mandate this sentence or the one earlier as I was informed, because I feel the accused are willing to atone for their crimes. I find that preserving lives fairer than obliteration.”

It is utterly foolish and reckless - this desperate move. But Louis has to give it to the Prince. Maybe it is his unique position in the court or maybe it is his untamable, boiling blood that of an Alpha Lycan. But his courage for even stating that out in front of this noble Vampire clan headed by the King seem admirable. No matter the consequence. It was a new light to see the Lycan Prince who seem to behave like a pretentious monarch and a contrived and false pleaser with nothing but ignorance towards his own kind. Doesn’t mean it would do anything good though...

The King stares back at the Lycan Prince. And from the subtle strain of his shoulders, Louis can tell that his uncle is clearly challenged. Which is furthest from the possibility of a fair outcome.

“You claim you believe in preserving lives, Edward. But you nearly lost your own…” There was a mocking undertone to the King’s words. Not taking gaze off the green eyed face the King slowly descends down the stairs closing the space between the Lycan Prince and him, the sound of his heal on the marble floor echoing through the silence of the chamber. 

The soldiers standing guard to the accused Alpha on the circular platform moves forward as if to block any chance of attack, to which Louis has to avoid rolling his eyes, since it seemed the Alpha was unable to even stand up in his bound form without help. 

King Benedict stops at the last step, placing himself on a slightly higher ground than the Lycan Prince. He puts his free hand on the Prince’s shoulder like a concerned guardian, with a grip that tightens slightly as the the Lycan Prince slightly sways on his feet, his breaths raising up.

“You seek validation from your kind by trying to appease them in their diabolical ways, Edward. But you stand today by the goodness of our soldiers and our skills here in Germia, where you've pledged fealty... You might be the sole heir and the Crown Prince of Homas... the forfeited Kingdom of the wolves, but even you are subject to the rule of your King... and this Council. You owe allegiance to this Court and Germia first, my dear ward, where you’ve been bred despite everything else I shouldn't have to remind you... I suggest you tread carefully.”

_Thread carefully..._ Is that a threat? A warning? Whatever it was, there seem to be a shift in the crowd's eyes - especially from the older section of the courtiers, which is the majority. It is as if the Prince's loyalty is questioned than anything else... which truly is a perilous path for a Lycan in a Germian court. After holding an unblinking gaze for a moment the Prince lowers his eyes, submitting to the King.

“Forgive me, My Lord King.” his deep voice spells gracefully. Relieving himself from the King’s grip on his shoulder, he kneels down at the Kings’ feet… whether by choice or by inability to stand any longer, Louis couldn’t tell. “I will.”

Silence screams wild around the room with all eyes turned to the King and the Prince of Homas. There were shreds of anger in some stares, but it was clear that many thoughts fluctuated from doubt to sympathy for the Lycan Prince at the King's feet, yielding to the decision of the court. 

The King ends the proceedings of the court without ascending to the throne again, sentencing the accused Lycan to death after ten days to the full moon. He orders the Lycan Prince still on his knees to be assisted to his chambers to be nursed, greets the High Council and courtiers, and departs. Germia’s Crown Prince, Zayn, is the second to leave; his mood foul and resentful as he avoids sparing any glance at either Lycan on courtroom floor. Councillors and courtiers start leaving soon after as chattering voices gradually raising all around… much to be discussed and gossiped on the juicy event just took place for sure. Stepping down from the platform, Louis tries to locate Niall or Jeffory, so he can greet them for the night and leave the place as soon as he can. But with the chamber being packed with the nobles in black and gold, it seem like an impossible task.

“Lord Tomlin.” calls a voice behind him, a whisper almost. Louis turns back to see the bearded face and long raven hair from yesterday night. Lord Micheal Rowland stares at him with his inquisitive eyes. 

“I think we need to talk.” he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep! that's that. Not a win for Harold or Klaus for sure. He tried his best, but the King is far too powerful for him at this rate. Any thoughts??  
Please let me know what you think. Thanks for reading!!!!!


	10. The ally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A doomed proposal and a reluctant ally. More of planning and plotting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another late update. Sorry for those who waited. I had a few rocky weeks with a relative falling ill and wasn't in headspace to do much writing. But anyway, here's the New chapter.  
Read away...

_ **Previously....** _

_“Lord Tomlin.” calls a voice behind him, a whisper almost. Louis turns back to see the bearded face and long raven hair from yesterday night. Lord Micheal Rowland stares at him with his inquisitive eyes. _

_“I think we need to talk.” he says._

_………………..._

It’s probably been a while since Zayn last set foot in King’s chambers. 

For the past few years, every time he’s been back in Germia, Zayn has made sure to make his stays brief and cramped. Sure he tolerates the grudging sight of the capital once a year because he has to, but he keeps his distance from everything that once made this all his home - including his uncle, the King. And especially this particular part of the castle, which he_ tries _ to elude with everything he’s got … but made the grievous mistake of allowing himself to come here the very moment he stepped down this time. 

It’s not like he’s less familiar with anything in King’s chambers though - at least the study. Nothing had really changed from its rich gilded furniture to thick dark drapes and polished chandeliers. It is still impressively ornate, enormously spacious, dark and lavish as he remembered. Only thing that stings is the faint but acute scent he catches underneath the rich fragrance that airs around. The scent that is imprinted in him like a mark he couldn’t get rid of. The familiar, earthly sweet smell that he yearns and loathes at the same time. It wrecks Zayn the moment he ambles in, leaving a bitter laugh at his lips. It shouldn’t be a surprise even…_ his_ scent wafting in King’s chamber.

One look at him in the court Zayn knew… he knew. But there was nothing he could do about it. And he didn’t know if he would, even if he could.

The King was on his desk, and spared a gaze up at him as he stepped closer, going back to his scribbling as Zayn took the chair in front of him. A moment passes without a reaction from either of them. This has been their dynamic for years now. cold, growling silence. Void of disappointment.

“You called for me, uncle?” Zayn finally gives in. His voice was toneless, and he doesn’t quite look at the King.

Several moments of dull silence drags again with the sound of scribbling. When he finally speaks, the King sounds intentionally bland.

“You’ve been here for two days, but couldn’t spare a time to greet your King.” He states, still not looking up. And Zayn hopes he won’t. 

“Should I bother to ask for an explanation?”

Zayn sighs indifferently making himself comfortable. “I was going to, last night. And the night before. But you had other engagements, My Lord.” he marginally smirks, gazing at his own palms. “I didn’t want to interfere.”

Setting his uncle off at the first word would not head for a good start. And it might not be the wisest thing to do at this point. But he feels rather reckless at the moment - the faint scent of the one Alpha Lycan that is the bane of his existence might have something to do with it. Why was he called in here to this? The King could have met him elsewhere.

King Benedict puts the quill down and stares at his nephew. And Zayn meets him with his brooding unblinking glare like the dark horse he is. Cuttingly handsome yet vengeful to the core. It was almost hard for the King to remember how young he was once, trusting and grateful and thirsty for approval. How the things would have been different if not for naïve imprudence.

“I believe you received my letter at Damask.” King Benedict says casually.

Zayn presses his lips thin. “I did.” he looks away drily. “A month is a long time.”

“Yes. But it’s decided already. The unrest in the western border should be sorted for once and for all. I wouldn’t have the ruddy wolves gathering up to join the rebels to find another Malakai. It should be crushed at the bud when it’s possible. And I can’t leave the city astray while at it. You’re going to step in.”

“The Close Council is enough to run the errands around for a month.” Zayn presses. Which is the truth. There’s no need to intertwine. Council is more than capable of governing in King’s absence.

“The throne shouldn't be left unattended at this time of unrest, Javid. Council can assist, but a Mainac should sit on it at all times to remind who it is at power. ”

"Why there's another Mainac in the castle - by your invitation. Perhaps he can help.” Zayn points, directly meeting the King’s eyes. 

He’s only found out about the presence of his never before seen cousin yesterday. And he had let it slide, until he saw him assisted by Niall Horan. Sure Zayn is the chosen crown prince of Germia by the King and his close council - but the unspoken truth is that his own claim is presumptive in the face of Tomlin family’s claim to the throne. The former White Knight turned renown artist. And the King invited him to the court today, showed him off to the courtiers like some precious weapon he’s been hiding under his belt. He can’t say it didn’t worry him a little. 

King Benedict looks amused. A corner of his mouth angles up to a marginal smirk. 

“No need to get feisty.” he says, “We need William by our side. Tomlins are our blood, even though they chose the exile and dropped the titles. I’d rather keep him close than let fortune seeking bounders yap in his ear of rebellions. William is a diplomat. And he’s always been more interested in peace making than ruling, if you ask me. One can never be sure though. But if he agrees to join the court, he’ll be an asset instead of a threat. Now..” the King leans back in his chair, sounding pleased with himself for some reason… “I hope you made arrangements for a longer stay and to take over the rule during the time I’m away.”

Zayn sighs deep. Does the King think he’d be more willing to prove himself with the appearance of this _William Tomlin_ in the capital? He doesn’t bother to resist or comment. There’s no use. “Who else would be joining in the border?” he decides to ask instead.  
“Lord Grimmas, obviously. And lady Mayfur with her soldiers. Horan would be commanding our troops.”

“Horan? Not Sir Jeremy?” Zayn couldn’t help but ask. Commander Horan, Niall’s older brother is the head of castle guard. Not that he’s any less competent, but why would he be going instead of the head of the King’s guard? Unless…

“Sir Jeremy would ensure the safety in capital borders until our return. He will be reporting to you and be under your command” the King smacks his lips. “Edward will remain in the capital, so I wouldn’t take chances. It’s risky for him to travel out of Germia by any means. His wretched life is threatened and with it the peace that lasted for a decade in Emorous.” Benedict leans to a side in his chair watching Zayn with a pointed gaze. “He’s best kept here in safety.”

Zayn stares back at the King unblinking, unable to contain his shock. In what world did his uncle decide to leave Harold under his care? How? Is he testing him?

“It’s best you take him with you.” Zayn tightens his jaw, tone cold.

“I would have, if I could,” King says dryly, his head tilted to the side. “Instead, I’ve decided to move things forward to prevent any blunders. Lady Gigiana Hadid will be visiting the capital on my invitation during that time. I expect you to host her stay, show her a good time.”

Zayn’s clenches his jaw tighter, anger rising up in a free flow. But he stares ahead with contempt. “It would be ridiculous to court her here, uncle. And I’ve said I need more time.” 

“There’s no calling for a union just yet. It’ll give you time to get to know her, to test water. It’s a good distraction if not anything else. Much less harmful than all the psychedelic dreaming you’ve been immersing yourself in Damask.” 

“What I do in Damask is my own business.” Zayn grits his theeth as he utters, his voice turning steely. “ And this proposal is doomed even before the start. I’ve nothing to bring forth. It’s a futile match.”

“It is a perfect match.” King Benedict drawls. He doesn’t seem affected by the crown prince’s loose tongue. Maybe he was anticipating an outburst. “You can give her the title and She’d give you an offspring. Germia will secure the whole of east coast and they will have our troops in need. Beneficial for both sides alike. And you two can bond through mutual hate. Sharing a grudge is useful at times.” he fails to contain the mocking smirk as he says.

Zayn presses his lips thin, curving them reluctantly upwards with darkening eyes. He knew he needed to contain himself. “I have no grudge against him.” he scoffs. 

It is territory they never discuss. The thorned void not dared to step yet… But the King seems to be in a different mindset this time.

“No?” the King weighs, sneers almost. “You should. It was an unpleasant predicament. Lycan nature is heedless greed and uncontrollable carnal desire... , yet you trusted Edward against the odds. And still he was dishonest.”

Zayn grits his teeth inside, his sullen eyes fixed on the King’s cold face until he can. Then he looks away. His thoughts, jarring and bleak all of a sudden. He wanted to leave the King’s side… knowing he won’t act rational if the King keeps prodding him.

But then the King exhales. In hindsight, Zayn sees him leaning forward, arms resting on the table. His tone is almost calm as he speaks next, as if he regretted jabbing at Zayn like that. 

“It’s no perfect world Javid. Trust and eternal bonds outside blood ties only exist in old wives tales. My marriage was with the woman I called the love of my life. Yet she couldn’t live beyond her years. Did I crumble at her death? Did I let the world call me a griever or a frigid after? No, I made the greatest Kingdom ever to exist in the whole of Emorous. You on the other hand was saved from a gruesome scandal. There’s no use in wallowing in a failed imprint by a diabolical creature of inferior faction. It would have been obscene anyway.”

“I’m not wallowing in anything.” Zayn shoots icily. “And I’m not seeking a commitment just yet. Lady Hadid shouldn’t be misled.”

“Courtship is no commitment. She’s strongly affected by the devotion she has for her dead sister - as same as what you can’t seem to get rid of when it comes to Edward. Her father, Lord Hadid said so when he brought me the proposal.”

“And yet you fail to see that it is a doomed match from the start. They had strong views on how the trial for her death should go… Hadids only agreed to spare Edward because you demanded as their King. Courting lady Hadid while Edward’s in the castle would be absurd.” 

“Then make arrangements so that there’s no place for friction. I'm sure you are more than capable of handling the situation.” 

The King's gaze was sharp looking at him. There is finally a sense of anger underneath.

Zayn tightens his jaw. “I won’t marry her.”

King Benedict didn't seem worried, rather placid. “Like I said, this is no more than testing water. there’s no intention to drag you into a marriage without consent.” he says matter of fact, expression dry and stern. “But you have a duty to the legacy of our house. And I would not see that you become an apostate because of a lewd affair you had with a Lycan. Hope you understand that.”

With that the King picks up the quill again, going back to his scribbling as if Zayn already left. 

He was dismissed. Zayn knew. But he lingers a moment more to get himself up and leave the suffocating room.

As he passes the high roofed passageway and long stairway, he prays to everything that he won’t accidentally run into the one person his heart yearned to see despite any logic or reason. And luckily for him, he doesn’t. 

  
  


……………………………………………..

The time was way past midnight... and the house is painfully quiet. Everything is sullen and calm now after the heaving tumult in the King’s court. Sombre with a damp silence after a rain. 

But there is a storm coming in, somewhere… somehow. Louis could feel it.

He pushes the carved wooden door shut in the gallery, turning to finally face the tall, long haired aristocrat watching him. Sherds of suspicion drips from his owl like features and Louis expected nothing less. Upon arriving, Louis had dismissed the waiting house-maid, Yaagine for the night, and sent Elise to his rest. So Count Rowland and Louis are truly alone in the gallery.

“Wine? Or maybe something stronger?” Louis offers, already pouring two without even looking up. The other doesn’t protest, settling to a observing silence. Louis places a one on the other edge of the long lowboy the Count is standing by - keeping his distance. Taking a small sip out of his own, Louis finally meets his calculating gaze.

“I’d say it’s a pleasure to finally meet Count Rowland, but I’m afraid we’ve passed the introductions yesterday. Think we can skip the pleasantries and cut to the chase.” He announces calmer than he actually feels. 

Rowland stares without hurrying a word, reflecting Louis’ own eyes. _ Maybe this is a bad idea. _ But time is running out for slow, calculated steps. In two days Louis would be heading back, and this would be a waste of muscle and time. Also, hopes that he should not have been brought up..

“I couldn’t agree more, Lord Tomlin.” Rowland says carefully, having not made any moves toward the wine Louis poured. Instead, he holds a small metal token out stretching his hand. A small circular plaque had a leafy tree carved into it with fine skill. “I was delivered this earlier today by a trader. I believe it is yours.” Rowland doesn’t blink. 

Binding his arms on his chest with the glass still in hand, Louis studies his face.

“It is.” he admits easily.

Rowland nods, taking the token back to his palm. He stares at it as if studying it for the first time. “You used to serve as a White Knight.” he states, politely. But scepticism is easy to smell when someone tries to hide it, the same as unease.

Louis keeps his gaze on Rowland's bearded face. “I sure did. Some years back.” he takes a slow sip off his cup. “Should I pretend that’s the only thing you know to be represent Lord Edgor’s white tree of virtue, Lord Rowland?”

“Perhaps I should ask you the same question,... Should I?.”

Louis smirks. He ambles over to the Vampire and opens his palm for the carved token. Rowland offers it, without a word. 

“It is ironic that they chose the white tree as their mark, it’s impressive. Though the connection they try to make with the white council is a little hazy, considering what was revealed in the court today. But clearly it draws the least suspicions - serves the purpose, I suppose.”

Rowland remains silent and impassive, probably trying to calculate what his next move should be… or trying to determine Louis’ stand in any of this. Clutching the token in one hand, Louis dives the other hand in his pocket, dragging out the sealed scroll Payne had given him to pass over to Rowland. 

“I believe I’m meant to deliver this.”

Rowland takes the rolled paper with an obvious hesitation, but takes it anyway with eyes on Louis. He breaks the seal without much hesitation unrolling it right away.

And Louis leaves him to it, heading to the table with one of the books he borrowed from the Athenaeum. Staring at his pages with a blur, he lets his mind wander back to the evening that rattled everything. 

The trial had revealed anything but what he expected to be Klaus’ predicament. Klaus who he was supposed to find and assist to get back to the Resistant camp. Sure, Louis was suspicious what his business in Germia might have been… but he didn’t assume something brutally unacceptable like this. If Louis had any clue of this plot to assassinate a royal, he would have never agreed to it, regardless of his sister’s situation. Not only because it is downright against everything he stood for - but because he would not in a million years would be a part of such a rebellion.

Sure, Louis didn’t push too hard, but Payne explicitly refused to reveal what Klaus was doing in the capital. And now Louis knows why. He must have guessed that Louis would outright refuse any involvement. But now, after everything including being inside these city walls he swore never to return to, Louis couldn’t just return empty handed. Giving up now would mean letting his sister’s memory be buried with Klaus, knowing he had a chance of a closure at least. And at this close proximity, it would be impossible to turn back. Payne must have known...

Was it James’ idea to exploit Louis’ family tragedy in such a way for their gain? Thorns of betrayal stings at Louis’ thoughts. Louis should have never really trusted James in the first place, knowing his attachment to the Resistance. But foolishly he had.

‘_Klaus is the only hope Lycans had left _’, Pyane told him. 

Louis took it only as a figure of speech, since it was also mentioned that Klaus is the only other living Alpha with royal blood. The _only_ _other Alpha_ with a rightful claim to the crown of Homas. Louis should have realised what it meant. Without the Lycan Prince on his way, Klaus can demand the scattered Lycan clans to pledge fealty to him. For Resistance to gain someone with that much power would be perilous, and a call for war. It seemed impossible for the Lycans to come up with such a gruesome plot to murder their legitimate Prince… going against the bone-carved loyalty that is in their second nature. But it looks like he had underestimated what Resistance and its secondary Lycan leaders would do for power. 

And to top everything, why on earth did the Lycan Prince fight to save the one that tried to murder him cold blood in court at first place? It made little to no sense, unless he knew who Klaus really is. But even then, why would he want to spare him? Why? Sure, it was a failed fight in Prince’s part, but the mere attempt was baffling - confusing. And Klaus, his reaction to the Prince couldn’t have been stranger … the complete change from his cold vengeful front for the Germian court to a humbled sorrow and utter desperation in the presence of the Homas’ Prince. 

‘_ He’s repenting his actions _’ Lycan Prince had said about Klaus. Did he truly believe that?

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Louis presses his eyes shut. 

The last thing he wanted was to get tangled in something like this. Something that would wind up the cause of everything. He didn’t want to bear that kind of responsibility for the future or any faction. He would not be accountable for what is to come out of it - good or bad. 

Sound of steps behind him makes Louis straighten back up. He closes the book louder than he intends to ease his irritation and turns to face Rowland for the second time. The Count looks much less sceptical than before, as if the letter had cleared some matters. Instead, he seemed disgruntled - even angry perhaps. And Louis doesn’t try to guess why.

“They say that sometimes the cause is bigger than the cost, Lord Tomlin… but this -” the Count states, holding the letter in a tight grip, “-is preposterous.” 

Clearly he is fuming than he lets out. Maybe it’s not only Louis that Payne and the clan had pissed off with this hide and seek game. Dragging a chair opposite to Louis, Rowland sits down making himself comfortable as if he’s familiar with the manor house than Louis himself. Maybe he is.

“I agreed to keep an eye on the Starlinson Prince for them. To assist protecting him. And the last thing I expected was Payne to get mixed up with absurdly eccentric praxis of a few in the Lycan faction with no warning. I’m no turncoat. I won’t help setting safe passage to a killer - failed or not! That Alpha deserves the sentence he got.”

His tone is venomous, as if this is personal for him than he lets on. Is it possible that his loyalty is more to the Lycan Prince than the Resistance? Louis wonders curiously.

“If you mean you don’t approve whatever Klaus is meant to do in the capital, that makes two of us, Lord Rowland.” Louis explains. “To be frank, I was unaware of his business until the court,… I admit that I was foolish enough to assume that it to be something less horrendous even when I knew they withheld details. I was wrong. Since my arrival, I've been trying to find Klaus in the capital, hoping he wouldn’t have been captured. Clearly I’ve been looking at wrong places to miss such a harsh incident last night. I for one am glad he failed, regardless of the fact that it is impossible to get him out of the capital now. ”

“Last night?” Rowlad repeats, puzzled. 

“The attack? Klaus tried to kill the Lycan Prince last night did he not?”

Rowland runs the palm across his face with a sigh as if something dawned to him as Louis watched him. 

“Prince Harold was not attacked last night, My Lord. He wouldn’t have been able to appear in court today if he did! He was attacked almost three and a half weeks ago in his private chambers while he was unarmed and unprotected.” Rowland divulges grimly, venomously. He looked clearly shaken by the incident even after all this time then, and angry. “Klaus or whoever this cowardly wretch is, he had been imprisoned in the castle dungeons for weeks now, rotting in the dark. Technically Prince Harold should have been dead by that fatal attack - he almost did! It’s a miracle that he survived.”

Louis stares at the Count confused. “The Princeling looked ill at the court - seeming to delay his appearance. I assumed the attack was last night.” 

Was this why Niall did not mention this during the day? Because it’s just old news? So what... the Prince suddenly fell ill before the court today? An Alpha Lycan, ill?

Rowland stares back at him distressed. “Think he was.” 

He spells slowly, darkly as if mumbling to himself. There’s surely a deep worry in Count’s thoughts for the Lycan Prince, if Louis is any good of a judge on one's expressions. It’s a strange discovery - to have a high Vampire Lord in King’s court showing more concern for the Lycan Prince’s welfare than the Resistance he’s secretly a part of. 

Sensing the calculating eyes at him, Rowland turns away from Louis… a frown taking over his carefully hidden features. He starts to stroll around the gallery, looking at the various paintings on walls as if he suddenly found an interest in art. From the desk, Louis just follows him with his eyes, deep in thought. Nothing in the capital is really how it looked, he’d always known that. Each and everything around him seems to have layers of lies and agendas behind it. It’s nothing but a cold war field where everyone hid behind their pretentious images. How he missed the simplicity of Hampshion and his rural home, Louis couldn’t begin to explain. 

“Interesting choice among the rest.” the Count comments breaking Louis’ chain of thought. 

Louis sees him standing in front of a painting Louis had recently gotten Elise to hang - the anonymous painting of the doe-like green eyes he found buried in a dusty corner of the store-room.

“I took a liking to it.” Louis says, getting up to his feet and following the Count who seems to be staring hard at his discovery. “The brush technique can still be refined, but it’s a fine piece in it’s raw, obvious declaration of emotion it manages to capture.”

“Emotion?” Rowland questions, his frown deepening as he does.

“Passion… or a lover’s view, after intimacy.” he explains, staring at the perfect strokes of colour. The relaxed faraway look, dishevelled hair and sweat kissed skin hardly needed any other explanation. It is hardly a time to discuss art, but the Count seems to search for an excuse to go off topic for whatever the reason. “Found it buried under the dust. I don’t know who the painter is. There’s no signing. Thought I’ll call it... ‘Lover’s eye’ for the next two days until I leave, unless the artist comes and claims different of course.”

Count’s gaze lingers a bit longer on the painting almost as if amused. “I wouldn’t question your mastery.” he says thoughtfully, forcing a distracted smile.

As if in need to figure out his own thoughts, the Count sighs… finally facing Louis again.

“They say blood is thicker, Lord Tomlin.” the Count says carefully. “ Yet you seem to defy that very norm in the heart of the capital. Payne seems convinced of your neutral stand regarding the King.”

Louis raises an eyebrow a little. “Blood is indeed thicker, my Lord Rowland. But there’s none in this city I consider to be my true family.” He says, “I should admit though, that reasons for my stand is my own. Sure Payne’s words will be enough for you to decide. Because in two days, I’ll be leaving the city for good. With or without Klaus. But I would gladly accept your help if you are willing to assist” Rowland had no business why Louis is doing what he is. He didn’t need to know about Felicity. That part, he would keep to himself.

Rowland nods slowly, his mouth in a thin line. There is a shade of contempt blurred in to his searching gaze, which Louis feels not directed at him.

“Forgive me, Lord. But I can’t stand by their decision this time. They crossed the line. It’s brutal what they did… Or what was attempted.” he declares in grimace. “Payne had played right into the ridicule of few Lycan demands, the self proclaimed Alpha leaders who would do anything to grab a little power in given opportunity. I can’t help them this time. This rogue Alpha deserves what he got, same as of his subordinates, by losing him.” 

“The Lycan Prince seems to think the opposite.” Louis points. “Don’t you think he deserves a say in the matter?”

Rowland bites his lip, and starts towards the next painting, crossing arms on his chest as he does. The question seems to stir something in Count. Louis waits without following him. 

“Starlinson Prince has a - a merciful complex when it comes to his own faction… something that often lands him in deep shit with the King. He worries about his own, regardless. He cares for them. Something the Resistance doesn’t seem to have for him anymore.” Count’s voice is low and thoughtful. But the frustration is clear in his words.

Louis sure remembers the intensity of many words regarding the Lycan Prince’s allegiance to the Vampire King inside the Resistance. Even from the Human faction. They seem to consider him a traitor and a corrupted royal, playing puppet to Germia’s will. But after his conversation with the King, Louis had come to realise that it is a bit far fetched. There’s a clear tension between his uncle and the Lycan Prince. A tension which found its way into the audience of the court today as well. At Least by the looks of it. 

“Prince Harold has no way of really knowing what goes in the Lycan faction, Lord Tomlin. But this proves that they no longer stand by him. He’s been blindsided by his sympathy and concern for them. He wouldn’t have done that if he knew.”

Tilting his head, Louis steps near the Count. 

“Do you really believe that the Prince doesn’t know who Klaus is after what happened in the court, Lord Rowland? No one fights like that to save someone who’s tried to kill you without a reason. He has to know.”

“Klaus’ claim to the Homas throne is only second to the Prince, you must already know that. He’s an Alpha at his peak, unlike the Prince whose young, unmated and has no way to claim his birthright as the Alpha Prime. But while the Prince is there, Klaus can not either. He is nothing while Harold is alive. But without the Prince, he has no obstacle. And killing Harold would place him in the worthy position to be the Alpha Prime in the eyes of the rest of the Alpha Lycans. There’s no way Prince Harold would let him go willingly if he knew who Klaus really is. He’s hardly suicidal nor naive.” the Count argues.

Something tells Louis that Rowland didn’t really attain that himself. Yes, it was illogical and irrational for the Prince… But he surely knew what he was doing, that much is clear to Louis - as same as to Rowland who is trying to pretend not to see that. Sure the Lycan faction fell to decay after losing the late Alpha Prime. Maybe Prince Harold not claiming the position is the main reason for the tension between him and the rest of the Lycan faction. But living as the ward of King Benedict, would he be able to, even if he wanted to? As far as Louis is aware, an Alpha Prime is able to wheel the loyalty and the power of all Alphas in the Lycan faction. Surely Louis’ uncle won’t allow such a thing to happen.

“Clearly there’s a gap between parties. But the Prince seems to be in tune with the Resistance for wanting Klaus to live, threat or not. He seems to even risk his allegiance being questioned in a court full of Vampires for it. You seem close enough to the Prince, Lord Rowland. Would you rather ask him why he thought that’s a good idea?”

Rowland shoots him with a daring stare that says enough of what he thought about confronting the Lycan Prince of the matter. But beneath it, he seems to be in a dilemma between Payne’s request, Lycan Prince's actions and his own instinct.

“This is nothing but a power game driven by greed and ambition, Lord Rowland,” Louis utters with a long sigh. “- I won’t play pawn to either side. But I’ll agree with Lycan Prince’s stand on saving lives rather than leading it to death.” 

Rowland scoffs. 

“Saving lives, that sounds glorious on tongue, Lord Tomlin. And sure, generous. But freeing Klaus would lead many to anticipate Prince Harold’s demise.” he spits. “His image had been tarnished for years by Germia… especially for the Lycan faction. He’s been painted as the privileged traitor with authority to issue death warrants for his own kind. When they came up with that treaty between Homas and Germia, Prince Harold was appointed as the State Lord of Homas. A boy of thirteen at that time. Do you know why?” 

Rowland asks, his ebony eyes glinting dark. Louis just stares back silently.

“He was a mere child who didn’t have a say on what was decided for him. He was positioned in court and was led to answer for the unrest caused by the rebels of his kind while the Courtiers of Germian monarchy jeered at him. Even today it’s his duty to sign off each and every Lycan death warrant passed by the court as the State Lord of Homas - so it seems it’s his decision in the end. Sure… he didn’t want to sign off Klaus for death. He doesn’t want to sign off for any Lycan’s death!” 

“Do you think Klaus’s death would do any good with Prince’s image if Resistance finds a reason to believe he had anything to do with it?” Louis sighs deep. “I doubt the King or anyone knows who Klaus really is, but they will not hold back to tell the public of the death sentence of an Alpha after what went down in court in front of that crowd. Do you think they’ll let the public know that Prince Harold tried to resist the Council? That is not how things work. And Resistance won’t have a problem deciding that the Lycan Prince is somehow at fault. You and I both know that. And Lycan clans won’t let it go lightly if they feel the Prince has had any hand burying the only hope left for them. They’ll seek revenge without a doubt.”

It was no exaggeration. As much as loyal Lycans are to their own, they are vengeful creatures. It is a fact. Crossing his arms on his chest, Louis shoots an imploring gaze at the other. 

“Too much blood has been spilt in this city already, Lord Rowland… for years and years without cause or gain. For whatever reason, the Prince wanted to let Klaus live. There might be consequences, I won’t deny that. But it can be turned into something good as well. Klaus can return to the Resistance and divulge how the Lycan Prince fought to save his life in front of the impossible King’s council. It didn’t seem like Klaus wanted to carry out his deed for the Prince any longer anyway. I’m no expert in Lycan traits, but his reaction to the Prince was obvious. If anything, he looked as if he was ready to pay allegiance to Prince Harold despite the situation. Maybe this is the Prince’s chance to prove his stand. Don’t you think? Who’s better than Klaus to vouch for him? ” 

Louis doesn’t know why it felt right to point this out... but he does. And even with a reluctance, it seems to stir the Counts' thoughts as Louis expected. 

“There’s no guarantee that he would do that.” 

“Not really. But there's a good chance.” Louis presses. “And I will be there as well. Payne would at least listen to what I say if I return with Klaus, would he not? But if Klaus is killed, I’ll assure you that the opposite will happen, and nothing I can say would change what they believe.” 

The gallery drowns in silence as Count Rowland silently phases in a pensive of thoughts. Louis doesn’t try to intrude. He knew with people like Rowland, words needed time to sink. And Louis could give him the whole night if needed. 

But it seems Rowland didn’t need that long. Prospect of having allies who can speak for the Lycan Prince inside Resistance had hit a nail. After a little phasing Count Rowland finally reaches for the drink Louis poured for him earlier. After warming up the cup with one hand and taking a sip, he speaks.

“Klaus will be put in a separate hold in castle dungeons until the full moon passes, isolated from the rest of the prisoners. A hold that’s able to keep a raving Alpha at bay during the time.” 

Louis just nods at the revelation. 

“It would be heavily guarded from outside but no soldier would visit inside.” Rowland sighs grimly. “If we’re to get him out, that’s the only chance we’ve got.” 

They must be insane to even consider having anything to do with a full grown Alpha during the full moon. Rowland’s unsure gaze confirms it. Louis can only imagine what his mother would say. But if it’s the only possible way,...

“Then we should take it.” he assures.

But Rowland looks troubled.

“Even if I got him out, I have no way to arrange the travel from the city to wherever camp they want him delivered. Not this soon and not during the festival. Nothing can be arranged undetected at this time of the year.”

“I would be leaving the city at dawn the day after the full moon. I can smuggle him out of the city, but he needs to be hidden in the carriage, sedated. I have a brew that would serve the purpose, but it needs to be given to him a day before the full moon to take effect.” Louis wants to sound confident. 

Taylor’s potions had worked so far without a miss, he knows. But an Alpha Lycan in the full moon is a monstrous predator with senses set only to kill. To take such a creature out of restraints to be hidden in his carriage is a raving mad decision. 

Yet it is the only available option yet.

Rowland nods… but he looks rather unsure, clearly thinking Louis’ out of his wits. He clearly is at this point.

“There’s another glitch.” Rowland adds rather sceptically. “If we manage to get Klaus out, it should remain a secret until at least for one more day so there is no trace of his scent in the roads he travels,” he reveals carefully. “If by any chance he’s captured trying to flee, I won’t be able to save him - or you, if he’s with you. They’ll probably kill him on site… and the King would not spare you, blood or not”

Louis nods quietly. It was one thing to know the risk, which he had been since the beginning. But it seems more real now, closer to the threshold. Because Louis knew he’s putting his entire family - his mother and his sweet sisters- in danger by doing this. Is it even possible to keep such a breakout a secret? Guess there’s only one way to find out.

“I’ll take my chances,” he utters, preferring not to wallow. “But to do that, we need to get the potions to Klaus. I know those underground dungeons you are talking about. They are impenetrable. How are we going to reach him past the guards undetected during tomorrow??”

Rowland presses his lips thin, nodding as he phases with lagged steps.

“As for now, I have no clue. But there should be a way.” he says, clearly knowing how impossible it sounds. “And I will find it.”

Count Rowland takes his leave with a promise to get back to Louis with a plan. There was a determination in Count Rowland’s eyes that gave Louis some assurance that he would keep to his word. No matter what his reasons are, the Count, as Payne assured, had enough information, connections and resources that he seem to be willing to make use to assist the them. Maybe it’s something he needed to dig into, but Louis knew that couldn’t take a risk that might jeopardize any plans. 

Since he stepped into this hell of a city, things finally seem to fall into place,... Count Rowland is without a doubt a powerful ally to have. Anyone would have sighed in relief. But watching the Count’s carriage disappear into darkness, Louis doesn’t feel the triumph of he should have after all. Instead, a cloud of ominous uncertainty haunts his thoughts.

Maybe that’s why instead of going to his private chamber and to his bed, he finds himself in the gallery, loitering back into the secret tunnel. Decaying limestone and the smell of dust feels familiar enough to him now that he almost expects it. The dim light of his torch creates ghostly shadows ahead of him, and it comforts him in a strange way - overpowering the baleful mood that haunts him. He does not exactly know why he keeps climbing up the rusty stairs, but he does… until he finds himself once again on the other side of Prince Harold’s private chambers. Taking a second to gulp down Alison’s potion from the bottle in his pocket, he doesn't waste much time to look through the vent. And Louis is not exactly surprised to see the Prince this time. It’s like he almost anticipated the presence. 

He realises. 

Loosely curled up on the chaise longue, Prince’s head is slightly bent, pressing a side of his face to its velvet back. His feet were bare, one folded under his body while the other was stretched to the ground. He still looked graceful even in this form. The rich blue and red garbs he wore to the court lay discarded on the floor as if he tore them off either in haste or repulsion. The soft materials he had on were loose bed clothes, white and soft. There were several dressings covering his neck and torso, visible beneath the thin layers - though strangely Louis can’t recall seeing any of it before, not even when he accidently saw him amid a throng of slithering bodies, naked. He looked pale in a way a Lycan shouldn't. It is as he was feverish. 

It was puzzling and there’s surely something amiss …, yet the poetic sight in front of him distracts Louis from his calculating thoughts easily as they come.

The room, lit in dimmed gold chandeliers and scented candles was completely still unless an occasional move of a flame. The white materials on Prince’s body seem to catch the goldish soft light and glow against the thick red curtains. His long locks, loose down his shoulders, looking darker in the night as the light danced on his pale skin, soothing like pearls. It is as if he's looking at a painting in a live form. Louis could just stare.

It is different seeing the Lycan Prince here, alone in his chambers by himself. Stripped off of porcelain smiles and contrived moves with vacant eyes… or devoid of that steely, ironclad grimness that wore in front of the King and his courtiers a few hours before. The peacock feathers and the armour he seems to put on easily in the face of the world. There is something vulnerable and genuine in his slumped features that leaks out, leaving him looking wrecked out of his surface. 

It is as if everything Louis glimpsed under the unintentional cracks he’d forgotten to cover is just there in the open. The true nature of his mortal self, made of flesh and blood among the throngs of undead Vampires - the one that breathes and bleeds.

Louis finds himself unable to look away - or even blink.

Then out of nowhere, the prince gasps as if he’d been holding his breath for as long as he can. His hand motions to cover his eyes, curling a little tighter, his neck bending further. It makes Louis’ eyes flash into his face half hidden behind his locks of hair. 

Side of his cheek Louis could see is slightly glistening, he notices. There are tear tracks down his face like smudged water on glass. And they keep falling. The Prince has no idea of anyone's presence as he silently weeps, but Louis feels ashamed as he watches him for the second time standing there behind the wall, unable to move. Unable to leave the sight. Because with everything else he had heard and seen of the Prince, out of nowhere, there is this living creature immersing in grief - drowning in muffled sniffles, trying to console himself in despondence. 

Louis has no idea why, but a strange sorrow engulfs his thoughts seeing the Prince in this way… alone and grieve stricken. He had no idea why. Why is the Prince grieving? What has befallen for him to be drawn in such devastation? 

Could it be what happened in court? In a sense, the prince should be relieved that Klaus wouldn’t be a threat to him anymore as Count Rowland suggested. Instead, for whatever the reason, he seems to be in a deep lament. Not that Louis was certain that it is the reason, yet the way he tried to fight and change the inevitable decision of the council, but failed… there was something immensely tragic about it all. 

World outside, many believed that the Prince spent a privileged, pampered life as the ward of the King. But things must be far more complicated in reality for him - far demanding, challenging in the face of Vampire monarchy from what he gathered with Rowland’s words. His existence in this ludicrous city hinted nothing but of a caged stallion… admired and envied upon for strength, grace heritage and undeniable beauty - but silenced and immaterialised unless he served the purpose he had been obliged to play.

Since he saw him, Louis had found it hard to link the bright green eyed child Prince he saw in Payne’s memories to this enigma he is, that seems made of glass and everything pretentious and cold. But slowly, very slowly, Louis is beginning to understand why...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup... I have a habit of digging deeper and deeper before crawling out. I promise the next chapter will have many answers about H & Z situation.  
Hope I didn't bore anyone with all the descriptions. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think... any predictions or guesses on what is going on between Z & H? Louis is slowly closing in but he doesn't have a much of a clue what he's about to step in to.


	11. Zayn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A luncheon with revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Care for an update anyone?  
Well, this was one took longer than I expected. Ideally, I wanted to post sooner, but with everything that fell down in the world, I found it hard to come to this. Personally I've not had a good time with the pandemic... but well the life moves on. Thanks for anyone who enquired and waited for an update. I hope this is worth the wait. This is not beta read, so excuse me for mistakes for now. I'll fix them in due time.
> 
> This has few character introductions, places as well as a hell of a lot revelations. Hope it's not too much. I'll try to point at some names as stuff for easy reference. Hope that will help with knowing what's going on.  
**And because I am an absolute nerd, I've drawn a "map of Emorous" with mentioned places and cities for anyone whose interested to get a deeper look
> 
> _Warnings for angst, slavery, mentions of violence and death. _  


__***Lord Arlog Grimmas** \- One of the King's High Counsil members in Germia. Appeared in the previous chapters. _Cillian Murphy would give the ideal image to the part. _

_****Hadid Family** \- A powerful Vampire family of monarchs. Ruled the east Kingdom before the war, but were defeated by the King's army. Pledged fealty to King Benadict and were allowed to remained in power. _

_*****Elizious Coven** \- An ancient family of Warlocks that were powerful and crafty in their ways. Was considered one of the most powerful and prodused many scriptures of their ways to preserve knowledge. King Benadict orders to exterminate their bloodline when he waged war against the races. Some manage to escape to Homas, but was executed when Homas fell... the only exception being the witch, Taylor Alison._

_**** *Glosworth** \- A rural villedge at the west near Ostalliath. _

_ **** **** **Ostalliath** \- The edge of the west of King Benadict's Kingdom. _

_ ***** **Grey Forest** \- The deep forest _in west _beyond the _territory_ of the Vampire kingdom. Exiled rebels are said to hide in there.   
_

“It’s taking a little more time than usual, Your Highness..., perhaps due to the previous injuries. But the boy _ is _ recovering.” *Lord Arlog Grimmas reveals with a bowed head. "He’ll be ready by the rise of the full moon tomorrow."

The King would be pleased with the news, he knew. 

Robed in gloomy black with a drawn hood, with markings of a black serpent around the skin of his neck, _Lord Arlog Grimmas _has a kind of a malice that wafted around him. ‘King’s wraith’ many called him, and there were even rumours that he was of black Warlock blood... and practiced magic. Perhaps his deathlike appearance and grim nature had been an easy accomplice for the hearsay around the capital. Nonetheless, the King seems to trust him as a close advisor and an overseer to his most vital accounts.

“Excellent. We can stick to the plan then.” The King says with a complacent sigh, leaning on the splendid wooden table. It had the entire map of Emorous painted on its surface. His hard, dark eyes examine the west coast carefully as if he could see the plans falling to right where they should for their awaiting victory. 

Grimmas follows the King’s gaze at the map calculatingly. Soon they would be riding far west to sort out the problem of exiled Wolves in the Grey Forest once and for all, before it piles into a threat. And crushing the unhinged, predatory Alpha Lycans scattered around the thick western forests need a bit more than the ordinary Vampire strength even with their numbers.

“Precisely, My Lord. I have hand picked a soldier from ranks to test against the Alpha once he’s at his strength after the full moon. We should see how strong the boy’s blood would work against the inferior Alpha blood.”

The King just nods, looking at the hooded Vampire across the table in vehemence. “And the troops wouldn’t know what it is blended with?”

He bows his head. It had not taken Lord Grimmas a lot to induce the King with the idea of using the stronger Lycan blood of the Alpha Prince at hand to assure their victory. Secrecy was the King’s demand to use the battle front as the testing ground. And it was understandable, given that tainting the ever superior body of a Vampire with inferior Lycan blood was unheard of.

“The potion would have no trace of Lycan blood, My Lord. The manner of the blend would hide the scent. It will be distributed among the best five in each squad as a tonic at the Ostalliath right before the battle. There won’t be suspicions. Everything will remain a secret.”

King Benedict nods. He seemed convinced. 

But defeating exiled Lycans is not the only thing intention riding for west. 

“And the plans in Glosworth?” The King asks warily, his tone even lower. 

“The scouts will be leaving the capital tonight, My Lord. If the rumours are legible, they will take a head start. It will give enough time to comb the area and get a sense of the village. Once we camp at Ostalliath, I’ll take my leave to join them while the battle is in front. If there is anything to be found at Glosworth regarding the scriptures, I will find it by your order, You Grace.”

“And I trust no one else to do the task.” the King assures as Grimmas bows lower. The King directs his gaze to the west of the map again. “But you should ride back to the capital before the next full moon. If I fail to come back within the month, Edward needs to be taken care of during the time.”

Grimmas bows without a word, though with a slight hesitancy this time. His eyes follow the King. He had hoped to spend more time chasing the trails for the lost ***Elizious scriptures than that. 

The King phases, his eyes on the table as he does. “Sooner the missing scriptures are found, sooner the threat of the Lycans can be eliminated. And the world will serve it’s rightful masters. But it is only possible with their last superior seed in our hands and I dare not take any chances with it.” 

Grimmas bows as the King continues to speak.

“I would have preferred to leave him with my virtuous nephew. His need to play by the rules is only seconded by his inherent distaste for the Lycans. Not even my brother's unfortunate death could change it I suppose. But it’s too little time to convince him to stay in the capital. So I would stick to my earlier plan with Prince Javid during my time of absence.”

“The **Hadid family is a clever move, My Lord. Securance in the east is a bonus at this crucial time.”

“Indeed. Though I worry that they’ll reach too far to get a grasp on the Lycan boy. Louis would have been a better choice.” The King sighs. “But even with him here, you would need to take the boy on during the full moon. I wouldn’t trust Javid’s capacity to be in control more than Edward’s ability to yield if I haven’t sent him to Narakh.”

“As you command, Sire.”

Lord Grimmas bows his head. He didn’t mind taking over the Alpha Prince during the full moon at all… it was a free pass to inspect his unique blood seed at length. But that would mean that he would most likely have to abandon his own mission with the Elizious scriptures sooner than he had hoped. But he doesn’t dare say a word against the King’s order.

……………..

It is a streak of damned sunlight right on the eye that wakes Louis.

Yes, he detests mornings. It is absurd, childish as his mother says, which is ironic considering his age. But he had come to terms with the fact that he is a one for the night, where there are less distractions, unlike the mornings where everything is awake. And Alison's brewing he’s been gulping down each night to sneak into the tunnel each night, has not being helping.

He scrunches his face, trying to get his eyes open with a bumming head as same as the previous days. But, once he manages to get them open and pushup to a sitting position, the sight that welcomes makes him regret waking up at all. A head of tamed black curls with startled doe-eyes hides his head in a bow at the foot of his bed, revealing a petite kneeling body crouched on the floor.

A distinct scent, non-threatening... but too abrupt for Louis’ senses, hits him like a wave of hot air.

Lycan. In the very room he slept.

The Lycan boy he had the audacity to get from the royal slave pen yesterday… _paid and had gotten delivered_ _like some furniture._ The boy’s heartbeat seems to rise, and his anxious, thin body shivers. He must be frightened, Louis figures. The boy had been right in that exact spot when Louis came to his chamber in the dawn from the damned tunnel. With only a few hours left to wind down, he had just dismissed the boy with a word or two, reluctant to deal with him at that moment exhausted after the long day. _ Surely the boy went away, right? _He must have come back in the morning.

Louis sighs deep, running his palms across his face, without making an effort to get off the bed.

What is he going to do with a Lycan boy now?

He had found Klaus in an unexpected turnout and Rowland, as Payne predicted, would cook up a plan to deliver him to Louis to be smuggled out of the capital tomorrow. There is no need for an Omega to find Klaus or assist him with an escape plan. The young, frail looking creature hiding in the foot of the bed is nothing but a liability now for everything. Could he just send him back to the slave pen? Tell that his services are not required any longer perhaps… or leave him here for someone else to take care of it? But everything that happened in the High Court yesterday reminded Louis that it would easily seal the boy’s miserable fate in the capitals’ prison. 

Could he take the risk of taking the boy to the Resistance camp with him regardless as he planned?

Climbing off the bed, he pulls on his robe tighter as he steps closer to the kneeling Lycan boy reluctantly. He had enough to deal with already… but,

The boy knelt on the same red mat as yesterday, clad in black sheer, hiding as little as possible. To his horror, Louis finds a mark of a dagger searing on the boy’s lean bicep, angry red and swollen - branding him a property of the House of Mainac. Quick healing is a trait of Lycan blood, yet the gruesome mark still looks painfully fresh. They must have definitely used Vervain to do that.

The boy doesn’t look up or move at all… though his heart seems to hammer in a race. For a Lycan, he looked malnourished, pale… his jet black hair and red lips striking out against the colour of his skin. He looked young… too young to be in the position he is in.

“What is your name?” Louis asks slowly, leaving a space of two feet between them.

The Lycan boy doesn’t look up, but turns towards Louis and lowers himself further down, pressing his palms to the floor.

“Whatever you call me, My Lord.” his voice doesn’t tremble. 

There was a fervent determination in it. _ To obey _. To prove his utter and complete surrender. In early years in Hampshion, Louis had easily looked away whenever he had an encounter with a Lycan slave. Alpha, Omega or whatever else, staying away from the Lycan faction unless absolutely necessary had always been the norm anyway. And then, in the past few days in this new world, he had first hand seen the way Lycan slaves and their masters behave out in the open. Sure, he tried his best to ignore it all, but it was impossible not to see the stakes for these weaker Lycans if they don’t prove their worth. He shouldn’t be shocked at this. But in this room, facing this frail Omega Lycan who had been trained to pleasure and please the likes of him, sold and branded like cattle or some furniture, Louis was shocked.

Because this feeble creature in front of him, is just a child. 

A child.

Someone that should have protection of someone stronger, wiser in his own kind. Instead, he was on the floor, trying to prove he’s worthy of his life because he could obey… and serve.

Louis had lived long years witnessing 'wrong' in many forms. But the frail boy crouched below him unnerves him to the core. 

“Get up.” Louis says slowly. “Please,” he adds.

The boy hesitates for a second. But he gets up, heart clearly thumping even faster. He stands dutifully, hands at the back, his eyes gazing at his own bare feet. He had a pointed, yet handsome face with long lashes and clear eyes. His frame was small, unlike an Alpha… and delicate. His face switched between blankness and fear… and Louis knew the boy was frightened just by the sound of his breathing.

“When did you last eat?” Louis asks, trying to calm him.

The boy’s dark eyes glance up at him for a second before turning down again. 

“Yesterday, My Lord.” he says timidly.

“When?”

“M- Morning, sir”

Louis sighs. “Your arm, does that hurt?” he points at the branded arm but doesn’t dare touch him.

The boy doesn’t look up this time. Just shakes his head lightly, marginally. Louis could tell that he was lying. He seems to get more and more frightened.

“Come with me.” Louis says turning away, walking towards the wooden chest he had been keeping his brews and potions hidden. He hears the boy follow him slowly as he opens one of the lockers. Without much ordeal, he finds the ointment he was looking for. 

“Sit.” he points to the velvet chaste lounge at the side, unstopping the bottle. 

The boy looks unsure, gazing between the rich, tufted chair and the Vampire in front of him who is his master. He slouches under Louis’ waiting stare - as if too scared to defy him in any way. The steps he takes towards the chaste are hesitant, fearful. And when he sits, it’s on the edge, taking as less space as he could. He averts his eyes from Louis at any cost.

Louis doesn’t know what he expected when he thought of getting a Lycan boy to assist him, but it was probably not this. And he had no idea how to treat him. The boy doesn’t even move when Louis takes his elbow, levelling it up to apply the ointment on the searing burn. It is probably painful when the liquid bubbles on his fresh bloodied lines - but the boy doesn’t even blink.

“You should keep it dry for the day.” he claims, putting the bottle back in the locker. 

When he turns back, the boy has already risen from the chaste. And under Louis’ gaze, he sinks back to his knees… then to all fours as if he was unsure what he should do anymore. Perhaps, the lack of command was frightening to someone in his shoes. 

He has absolutely no idea what to do with the boy. He realises for the second time in a row.

Then, as if to save the day, a knock comes from the door and the house-maid, Yaagine appears with two other maids carrying hot water and towels same as previous mornings. None of them look at him or the boy on the floor, going about their routine of setting up his washbasin, making hise bed and attire dutifully. 

Leaving the boy on the floor, Louis goes to the white porcelain basin and splashes the warm water on his face as usual. A courteous maid hands him everything he needs in order without a word.

“Good morning, sir.” Yaagine greets him pleasantly, laying a gold embroidered long maroon jacket with matching breeches and boots. He doesn't even need to worry about choosing his own garbs and he really shouldn't get used to it.

“I hope you had a satisfying night and a morning, My Lord. And everything was to your liking.” She stood with her hands clasped mannerly, as if ready to hear any complaints with a slightly bowed head.

“I would say so.” Louis stops at that.

He doubted if she's asking about the robes she chose for him. If he is to really speak his mind about what he woke up to today, these maids would think he’s a radical. He had to be careful. So he goes dressing himself with was was laid on the bed, though Yaagine seem to wait for more, expectantly. But with nothing else unless shock to add about the Lycan boy, Louis places his attention on the maid’s choice of his clothes. The gold embroidery was not exactly in his taste, but he had figured that there was an expectation for the monarchy to be extravagant even without an occasion. Horan’s luncheon though, seems like an occasion. 

“Breakfast had been laid, sir, should you wish to attend.” Yaagine offers carefully, as if trying to figure if there are any faults in attendance. 

“No. I’ll skip. It would be too much with the luncheon.” 

“And should we expect you for dinner, My Lord?” Yaagine asks, disappointed.

“I’ll be back before the sun-set. The horses would need tending after. The journey back to Hampshion the day after is long.”

“Would you not attend the final night’s feast, My Lord?” the maid asks, surprised. Usually the guests would stay in the city for a few more days, some as long as about a week. She had expected the Lord to extend his stay at least for a couple of days.

“I leave after the feast... no matter how late it would get. There’re matters in Hampshion that I need to attend to.” Louis explains, finishing up. Elise should be waiting for him outside already as instructed, to take him to Horan’s house. Rowland had said that he would let him know of the progress of the plans at the luncheon. But it is going to be a risky affair with everyone around. Their acquaintance needs to be as none existing as possible. 

“As you wish, Lord.” Yaagine bows, but follows him a few steps before speaking up again. “Lord Tomlin, sir..”

Louis pauses and turns to her apologetic face, “yes?”

“The slave… I can send for another to better please you, sir. A new one to serve you.”

His eyes find the Lycan boy behind her on the floor, curled at the same place Louis had left him earlier. The boy seem to be shivering pitifully as if he had swollen a dose of vervain. And his heart pounds erratically.

“Why?”

“The Lycan would be punished for failing to serve your pleasures, sir. I’ll inform the Slave pen and demand a replacement.” the maid says in a contrite tone.

Louis stares at the boy... and back at her intently. “There’s no need. The boy’s fine.”

Yaagine looks at him confused, eyes just blinking at him. “My Lord?” 

“He’s fine.” he repeats casually with a sigh. “No need to replace him." he assures. "Send some food. I think he’s famished.” He then continues to walk out.

“And something for him to wear for fuck’s sake.” he adds as the maid follows him with a fazed gaze.

.……………………………

Willow ranch, as Louis finds out, is an epitome of greenery and an array of cascading willows circling a blue lake with the cleanest soothing water anywhere near the capital. Surprisingly lacking any over the top landscaping or ornating, it is a well kept, privately owned land by the King - and as told, is hardly lent for anyone or anything. Niall however had managed to secure it for his annual luncheon (probably using Louis’ name but…) and it is saying something about the young solicitor’s persuasion abilities for sure.

It was a pleasant setup as same as all occasions Louis had been invited to during the previous days, with tables full of delicacies, wine and music for fine indulgence. Blues and whites of the delicate, soft decorations made quite a match with the greenery around under the summer blue skies by the lake. Louis had already met most of the nobles present earlier at the feast or the lantern festival. And compared to those events, this seem to be a rather intimate gathering.

It had not been hard for Louis to spot Lord Rowland in the crowd. He had gone to the tall, lone form to extend greetings and they had managed to exchange quick, brief words on the plan.

“I’ve found a way.” he had revealed in a hurry, pretending to sip his drink beside him. “Little you know now, the better. We’ll discuss the details tomorrow at the feast. But send me the potion for sedation by the evening. I have arranged it to be given to the intended before tonight. Be discreet as possible.”

Louis had just nodded, dutifully greeting Lady Rowland who joins them at that moment. Their acquaintance had been just that.

Sat at the lengthy table spread for the main course even now, they have just bowed in acknowledgement, in silent agreement to pretend they had no notable acquaintance. It was probably for the best. Louis knew.

“Do you feel that this is the mannered version of the private parties of the light festival, Lord Tomlin?” Clifford asks, sipping a lighter white wine, sat between Hemmings and Mendes, finally settling for lunch after being quenched in too much of canapes and dips since arrival. “Out in the daylight, the capital monarchs tend to behave more than at night, don’t you think?” 

“In a way.” Louis nods. “Reminds me of bonding ceremonies back in Hampshion. They are considered ceremonious but a joyous affairs. Matter of fact, I feel like I’m in a one now, a one without the bonding couple.” he says at ease. 

Mendes laughs. Louis wasn’t lying. The soft, greeny, wildflower grazed surrounding with blue white setup felt soothingly intimate for just a friendly gathering. And the tunes pouring out of the harps in several corners, seem to even slow the wind to a tranquil breeze. Smell of the delicacies, music and serenity made him feel nothing else.

“Captures the same atmosphere sure. It’s considered an honor to be hosting a gathering before the grand finale tomorrow if you could manage it between the festivities. It’s tradition.” Clifford claims.

“Our tradition is to show off.” Hemmings cuts in as Niall sniggers. “For real. I mean why waste time and effort otherwise when you have a grand feast tomorrow? We get bored with the riches if we can’t them on display.”

“Yet you show up to these pretentious gatherings to flaunt your radical ideas and pretend you are better than us, hypocrite.” Mendes hums as several around them snorts.

Chewing on a caramelized fruit tart, Hemmings shrugs. 

“Hypocrite I am. But also a good friend. Lord Horan here calls, and I come running. No questions asked. He doesn’t invite a lot to his luncheon unlike the festival party. Only the ones he cares about. Who am I to resist such love?”

“Here. Here.” Niall raises his glass as many in the earshot joins in. 

It was a far lesser crowd for sure. It seemed that while the festive night was to maintain his status, Horan has organised this for his friends. It is surprising though that Niall’s older brother, Sir Gereld Horan is not among the crowd. Maybe he would make an appearance later, Louis reckons. 

Louis had gone to Niall’s enormous house at Vercillias place a few hours before, and they had ridden straight here. Niall had been in high spirits as always, claiming he had wanted to host a gathering at the King’s ranch since he first set foot to the capital, years back. Louis had refrained from inquiring about anything that happened in the court yesterday, assuming it is not going to be a pleasant topic for the morning. But midway through, Niall had requested Louis to not bring the subject by any means to the luncheon, revealing that it would be a sensitive subject. 

Louis had agreed without an objection… but only gathers Niall’s real concern a bit later in the gathering. Because a little after their arrival, the one Homas Prince graces them with his presence, hand in hand with some young courtiers Louis had seen around - Niall’s guests, Louis assumes. He had seemed much healthier than he was yesterday in court. But the Prince’s behaviour since then is not something Louis would have expected. Especially not from the one who drowned himself in despair alone in his chamber last night.

It looked as if the Lycan Prince was down to the core drunk, though it’s doubtful if that was really the case. He laughed and flirted around, cligningly hugging on to anyone who seemed up for the sport (Even declared he’ll play the harp for them if they show him enough love). Garbed in a lilac, tully tunic with his curls flowing free, he swirled around with a toxic smile blooming in his face, sporting a matched hype of fake happiness and high spirits.

Is he in denial?

Or is he trying to downplay what happened in front of the entire court? Louis couldn’t tell. 

After a very gleeful greeting upon arriving, the Starlinson Prince seems to stay clear off Niall and most of his inner circle whom Louis sticks with… gliding towards the other guests to play with, being erratic with his choices. Even Rowland and especially his wife, Sarah seem to fall prey to his suggestive and juvenile attentions, nuzzling into them like he wanted to be petted. Though many (including Rowlands) seem to handle his advances with playful patience, several seem to take the free chance to steal touches and feels with smirks in their faces.

And the Prince, he seems to edge them even more.

Niall surely was aware of these antics as he and Jeffory kept passing silent, worried gazes between them when things got escalated. But neither of them tried to interrupt anything in any way. It was Timothee who went after the Lycan Prince, trying to get him to stick to their circle seemingly without much success. But in the end, young man was persistent enough to get Prince Harold to sit next to him throughout the main course... though it ended up with the Prince insisting him be fed while he laid his head on Timothee’s lap.

As absurd and ill mannered it was as Louis felt, young Timothee clearly didn’t seem to mind… thrilled to be in his position while Lady Ronnan and Mendes continuously rolled eyes at them. The Prince didn’t seem to care either, or interested in their chit chat through most of the main course, only whispering with the young Lord (mostly making him laugh) as he laid his head on him beneath the table, picking food from his hand. Only after they put down their cups toasting to Niall’s amity and friendship that he emerges from bellow, sitting up in his chair.

“I’ll drink to that.” he declares, reaching for a lighter wine, smelling it before he raises it up. He shakes his head lightly, bouncing his curls rhythmically “... and to that non existing bonding ceremony where the couple is missing.” he adds looking at Louis with a smirk. His green eyes shine suggestively again as if he was looking for something to play with.

Louis couldn’t help but scoff, though he raises his cup with a wry smile.

“Glad you’re finally upright, Harold. Shouldn’t mention it, but I did miss you terribly up here.” Next to Louis, Niall claims lazily, picking the pieces of pule cheese out of the salad he’d been poking at. 

The Lycan Prince turns to him sweetly, putting down his drink after a one sip. He tilts his head to the side, offended like a child. “And I you, precious. I got snatched away earlier. You should have taken me to your side when I came to greet you earlier.” 

“I should have indeed. My loss. But I can make it up to you if you invite me to dine with you tonight.” he suggests, “Just us.”

Prince Harold raises a brow, as if he's really considering.

“I’ll think about it.” he promised.

The others don't seem to mind their play flirting, starting their own conversations around them. It seem like the normal dynamic between the two and there was a warmth in the Prince’s eyes as he looked at Niall and Niall at him… like they knew each other's secrets. Maybe it is the case. Louis realises.

.………..

The main course escalates to dessert.

And the tables are piled with colourful fruits, cakes and gorgeous sugary bakes that consume the air with their sweet smells. The drinks were devoid of red wine or any such blends since the beginning, limiting to lighter tastes and colours. But the mood of the crowd grow joyous nonetheless, following chit chats, jokes and laughter. The Lycan Prince, as Louis notices, seems to has a sweet tooth - diving into various fruits and sugar creams, giving up on his mission to seduce everything around him. 

With the happy chatting guests indulging in each others' companies sweetened by sugar treats and fine wines, things finally seem to settle down in the tables. Until Niall strainly curses to himself beside Louis, looking ahead. (_ Shit! _) And following his gaze, Louis catches the sight of an elegant black rider strutting towards them, closely followed by another. Dressed in the same head to toe black as Louis had seen him both times, the Crown Prince carries a neutral expression as he draws close, bowing at the courtesy of the guests he’s passing. The one that follows him on the other hand, looks rather smug.

With a weary sigh that only Louis seems to notice, Niall gets to his feet, to welcome the Crown Prince who gets down from his black Friesian. Louis catches the hesitant but hasty glance Niall spares at the Lycan Prince who is chatting with Clifford and Lady Ronnan, oblivious to the arrival as same as the most of the group. 

“Evening, My Lord. Didn’t think you’d grace us with your presence.” Niall greets the Prince with a courteous bow, which he returns. 

“Seems you thought wrong.” Prince Zayn says, and offers a one sided smile. “You invited me, didn’t you?” he asks easily. 

The unmistakable sound of his voice bells everyone around of his presence. And not everyone in their circle looked that pleased. _ Where is his accent from again? _Louis tries to think.

“Course I did. Glad you could make it.”

Both of their tones are civil, and careful. Quite opposite to the way Louis witnessed their encounter on the night of the lantern festival, where they seem to be at each other's throats. Something tells Louis that Niall didn’t appreciate the presence of the other more.

“Montgomery.” Niall greets indifferently though, without a trace of a bow. 

High cheekbones, cloudy, grey eyes and medium built, Montgomery smirks as if he’s about to step on Niall’s dead cat. “Horan.”

Not much is needed to sense the building tension, especially among Niall’s inner circle. Clifford, Hemmings and Shawn looked alarmed, Lady Ronnan frozen, both Jeffory and Timothee right stressed. And next to Timothee, Prince Harold had his stoic gaze fixed on his own drink, turning it steadily as if he was counting the gems etched to it. 

Niall however seems to be at his cool, as same as he was at the night of the light festival with Zayn.

“Pleasure you could tag along, Monty. Do take a seat. Please don’t mind that we’ve started with the desert.” Niall gestures to an empty seat for him to sit, which is on the opposite side to where Timothee and Prince Harold sat. He seem to completely ignore Montgomery’s unpleasant stare. Giving his own seat to the Crown Prince, he then moves to the next, letting Zayn sit between him and Louis

“I believe you’ve met Lord Louis already, My Lord. I shouldn’t make introductions to family… that would be strange.” Niall still sounds extremely polite. And it swells with an awkwardness.

Many eyes seem to be directed at them with interest… to see the encounter of the two Mainacs, though many were surely unaware that they are complete strangers. Louis smiles easily at the anticipation and Niall’s claim. Receiving a curious, sloe-eyed stare from the Crown Prince. 

“It’s a great pleasure to finally acquaint, Prince Zayn. I wish our previous brief encounters were in better circumstances.”

“As do I, My Lord.” Zayn claims politely, dutifully as Louis felt. “Please forgive me for not being able to make connections. But I’ve heard great things about you from the King.”

To their right, sitting with Lady Ronan and Jeffory, Montgomery clears his throat. 

“You should join us for the after celebrations once these Homas frivolities are done, My Lord. We’re planning games, dancing and more action that would definitely be a little more exciting, no offence to this extraordinary party. Lord Horan’s been invited already, along with _ some of _ his close friends.” He emphasises on the words ‘_some of _’ smirking at Prince Harold across the table.

Prince Harold just stares back at him blankly, his expression guarded.

“You certainly should.” Prince Zayn says a little unenthusiastically, reaching for a drink.

“I would be delighted to.” Louis assures. “But the time is not in my hands. I’m riding back to Hampshion after the feast tomorrow.” he explains.

“Oh, I assumed we were able to convince you to stay at least a bit longer, Lord Louis.” Hemmings says, “I didn’t know you were leaving so soon.”

“Me neither.” Timothee joins, disappointed.

“I did try to convince Lord Louis… as did his majesty, the King.” Niall claims. “But he is fixed on going back.”

“Perhaps you’ve had enough with the shams and duplicity for a lifetime here, Lord Louis. And levity. I know I have.” Zayn takes a weary sip from his drink without really looking at anyone. 

If he was trying to say something more, Louis couldn’t guess. “Perhaps…” Louis decides to repeat.

“Pity you’d miss the games though, My Lord.” Montgomery hums from the side, “The slaves put up a real show of it. Puny little Lycans going at each other when they hardly can wave a sward. It’s hilariously entertaining to watch.” he sneers.

Beside Louis, Zayn snorts. And the rest falls silent… including Niall. Louis feels as if he’s caught in the middle of some petty quarrel. He refrains from looking at the Lycan Prince, despite noticing his attempt to slow down his breathing. He knew that the others did as well.

There was some agitation in the air around the circle. The crowd beyond the group seem less unaware of it though - slowly turning back to their own conversations and indulgences. Perhaps some like Rowlands were aware, eyeing the Lycan Prince from time to time. But that was the extent of their involvement.

Prince Harold’s seductive, playful demeanour had taken a complete spin to a gloomy brood since the new arrival. Louis wasn’t sure if the discomfort was between the two Princes or between Prince Harold and Montgomery. It was not clear to see, but Prince Harold's reaction to each of them seem quite different. While he seem to be careful not to directly even look at Crown Prince, his reaction for Montgomery is cold and blank. Looked like Montgomery tagged along to the gathering uninvited anyway… or why would Niall invite Prince Zayn to the luncheon knowing this outcome?

“The old art house you are staying at, Lord Louis, it belonged to Prince Zayn. Did you know?” Timothee asks out of nowhere as if he's had enough with the awkward silence.. 

“No. I didn’t. I wasn’t aware.” Louis turns to the Prince, surprised at the detail. “Forgive me, it is a beautiful house. The gallery itself is splendid.” He says.. “ I hope I’m not intruding.”

There is a sudden hesitance in the Prince’s dark eyes that Louis reads.

“Not at all, My Lord. It doesn’t belong to me anymore.” his hesitant gaze for the first time directs to Prince Harold sitting ahead of him, who still scarcely avoids his face. “I had no need for it after I decided to live in Damask.”

“He left me to deal with it along with his arts and collections.” Niall offers. “All the Vancoyers you’ve seen hanging about, Lord Louis… used to be his priced treasures. All the time and effort put in to renovate that house…” Niall shakes his head as Zayn softly scoffs to himself.

“I do remember the rubble it was before. A storehouse or somewhat.” Clifford recalls, “it was unrecognisable after the renovation. I wasn’t into collecting art myself, but walking through that gallery made me want to. That house had been empty for too long”

“It _is_ an impressive collection, Prince Zayn. I knew whoever collected them must have had knowledge and an impeccable taste.” Louis didn’t have a doubt that the Price must be artistic. Perhaps they had more in common than he thought. 

“Hearing that from an artist himself, I’m humbled.” the Prince slightly bows. And for the first time there is a marginal smile lines in his face. Maybe there is more to him than this cold, dark horse persona he leads on.

“It’s too tasteful of a place for blustering guests with trivial needs. But when the King asked me to accommodate your unexpected arrival, Lord Louis, I knew just the place to recommend. And finally the place had someone that’s worthy of its charm.” Niall beamed, quite happy with himself for matching a house for a stranger.

“Do you practise, Prince Zayn? I’ve heard you’re a painter yourself.”

It was clearly a wrong thing to ask because Prince Zayn looks at Louis taken aback. There is a hesitant movement in his eyes before he settles.

“Not anymore. No.”

Niall clears his throat, but doesn’t say a word, while Jeffory and several pthers look a little tense. Interestingly, Prince Harold, who had been either brooding or averting his eyes through the entire conversation, looks at the Crown Prince as if he couldn't look anywhere else. There was a tugging melancholic shade to his gaze, something that settles there easily unlike the dopy, cocky glow he usually puts on. 

“He got bored with the subject.” Montgomery sneers, casually biting on a piece of lime soaked apple soundly. He smirks at the Lycan Prince across the table, who fixes his gaze back at his empty glass of wine. 

There is a moment of silence, Louis expects someone to change the subject as before, but...

“Perhaps-” 

Prince Harold brings his imploring green gaze to Montgomery. “Or perhaps the subject got bored with him.” he says daringly. It was a different kind of a defiance to what he had shown yesterday in court… almost petty, slippery and off guard. Off his hook and unwise.

Montgomery snorts as the others clearly bite their tongues inside. And Prince Zayn… he just openly stares at Prince Harold with a blank expression.

“I sincerely doubt if that’s the case.” Montgomery cackles. “Great entrance at yesterday's court by the way. Heard you put up quite the show for the entire High Court, Harold, clowning about. I guess it served the entertainment purpose, but if it was up to me, I would just let the masters decide what to do with their vermin.”

“Well, good that it's not up to you then, is it?” Prince Harold blurts out coolly.

“Harold...” Niall interjects, warningly.

The Look Montgomery gives Prince Harold is unpleasant and threatening. 

“Did you sign the order yet, dear State Lord? Or was the public flogging not enough to get your loins warm?” the grey eyed Vampire spits venomously. “My ratty slave awaits the mercy of the sword...”

It is such a spineless attack that was beyond Louis’ capacity or background to intervene, that he just stares. But none in the group, not Niall nor Timothee this time seem to do anything either. Maybe the presence of the Crown Prince has to do something with it… who maintains his unblinking, blank gaze at the Lycan Prince throughout.

Aided by none, yet with an incredibly controlled breathing for a mortal, and a bored expression, Prince Harold gets to his feet. He even smiles lightly at no one in particular with a mild snort. 

“Are you leaving?” someone has the audacity to mumble. Clifford.

“I thought I would.” Prince Harold hums. “I’m finicky about the company, you see.” he announces somewhat in a sing-song voice. “I’ll see _ some of _ you lads tomorrow if I can. Niall…”

He adjusts his flowy tunic not really looking at the young solicitor who sighs.

“I’ll walk you to the gate.” Jeffory offers, already getting to his feet.

“Kind of you, but not necessary.” He doesn’t bother to look at any of them as he takes off without further ado.

Grimshaw and two other soldiers from the King's guard join him in escort. But Jeffory follows him anyway.

“Better let old Jeffo hold your hand, State Lord, in case your clan tried to do you in again. I thought only we were bored seeing you around. But they seem irked that you exist, Harold.” Montgomery jeers from behind with a satisfied sneer, as several guests stare back at him curiously.

……………..

They walk along the gravel pathway with overhanging willows in silence. 

Jeffory doesn’t say a word all the way through. And Harry had nothing to say either... nor heart to listen to anything. He just needed to let the bubbling outrage and spiked pride settle into his feverish bones in silence.

Staying here for this long had been a mistake. He should have left much earlier than this. After yesterday, and knowing what's waiting for him the next day, he was looking to get the edge off... a distraction, if nothing else today. And a distraction he got… right across his face.

He felt mad... choking, burning mad. And he tends to do very foolish things when he's that mad... He needed to get a fucking grip. He needed to calm down and get a fucking grip.

They arrive at his carriage without a single glance or an exchange. Grimshaw opens the door dutifully as usual, waiting ahead of him. He's just going to get in - let him be taken back to the castle without a word. There is absolutely nothing he wanted to say to Jeffory or anyone around at the moment. Maybe the cold, silence of his own guard is what he wanted... deserved.

But as he ambles towards the open door, the sound of galloping hooves makes Harry turn back, as well as Jeffory. The black Friesian horse that speeds towards them is unmistakable, but quite unexpected - as same as it's rider.

With an abrupt, skilled halt, the Crown Prince, Zayn gets off his blue blooded horse, riled eyed and half out of breath. This time there was no Montgomery tailing him. Harry watches the dark figure walking towards him shocked, immobile in his feet, 

“Leave.”

Zayn commands Jeffory, striding straight at Harry with wild, glaring eyes. It has been a while since Harry had that fury directed at him, plain and deliberate.

No matter how despondent, Jeffory doesn’t wait for a second order, turning back to leave. Jeffory knew he couldn’t possibly defy or intervene with the Prince no matter how much he wanted.

Coming at him, Zayn grabs Harry by the back of his neck, pushing him towards the carriage in rage.

He is thrown hard against its open steel steps, knocking him out his breath, and Zayn leaps down behind him with gritted teeth. 

“Still repulsed by my company? Or _ perhaps _ bored?” Zayn vents venomously, slaming him on the metal bar harshly. “I can have you whipped for insolence with a blink of an eye…”

Harry writhes, pushing his startled body to fight, even though he feels his limbs go numb under the weight. “What’s stopping you?” he rasps against his anguish, driven by panic. _Four years… four years is a long time to crave for someone who detests your very breath._

“Your virtue?”

Zayn grips a fistful of chestnut hair earning a pained hiss. 

“You know how entertaining it is to watch you strut about, thinking that you’ve fooled everyone?” Zayn breaths on the back of his exposed neck, harsh and cold. And Harry’s pathetic body shivers, thudding his heart inside the chest, insisting him to yield, and breathe the deep of his scent.

But then Zayn laughs... his grip twisting hard, making Harry yelp. Something tears under his unforgiving clutch.

“The wronged little Prince that lost everything to the war. Everyone. Pushed to vouch for his clan of bloodhounds and savages...” his soulful, smokey voice sounded nothing but hateful, bitter... hateful, “But I see you, Harry… I see you...unlike Niall, his circle of idiots and half of the court who salivate at your unsated body. I see you," Zayn sneers, clashing his body into Harry's harshly as Harry grips on the steel bar with white knuckles.

"... because I’ve had it before anyone else. And now..." Zayn spits. "... now, I watch you struggle in what you sow...and just laugh away.”

Harry wrestles, wanting to lash out at his cruelty. He could throw Zayn off and fight until the guards dragged him down. He wanted to turn and choke Zayn until this cocky tone died in his throat. Scream until Zayn's ears bled out of the lies they had filled them with. But he knew that if he started, he wouldn't be able to stop, until he is stopped. So he gives up, not daring to say a word… letting his knees go weak under the body he once thought he belonged, allowing the crude words to rain down.

“You bargained badly thinking you can play it out. Shame...it didn't.” Zayn tuts, stingingly. “You don’t own rules in this game, Harry. But I do… and I will tear you right down if you so much as breathe in my way like you just did.” 

Zayn spits, finally loosening his grip. He breathes hard to ride off his anger, pulling away to put much space between them as if he suddenly realised their bodies were this close. Even with the shock of losing the weight on top of him, Harry doesn’t let himself fall, managing to hold on to the carriage. He doesn’t turn back to look at Zayn either, overwhelmed by the grief and aggression he never saw coming. 

Silence endures as Zayn seems to realise that maybe he had gone too far. 

He never really planned to strangle Harry, not like that. Warmth of his body is something Zayn vouched that he’d never let himself indulge in again. But now it’s all over him again, wrapping him like a skin he couldn’t shred. 

With a tightened jaw, Zayn watches Harry drag himself up, leaning on the carriage. His long perfect locks dishevelled, and the neckline of the smooth tully blouse torn from the back where Zayn had gripped. It is rather faint, but Zayn could smell the stench of Lycan blood from the direction Harry was.

Did he do that? He panics. Did he make him bleed? 

There was a shaky intake of a breath, but Harry doesn’t dare try to face him. Which is for the best.

“Sign the fucking paper for that slave.” he insists, but his tone sounds lighter than he intends to. “There’s nothing you can do to save him. His fate is sealed. Sign it and get it over with. I hate having Monty breathing on my neck.”

With that he turns, walking back to his horse held by Grimshaw who looks impassive as always. 

“If anyone breathes about this to the King, I’ll hang their head on a spike.” he hisses coolly as he takes the horse and gets back on to ride to the castle.

………………………….

“They grew up together.” Niall says after a long drag off his cigar. He knocks the extra ashes on the brass ashtray, careful not to spray it over the table.

Following Prince Harold’s abrupt departure, the atmosphere had taken an awkward turn at the table. And a little after sulking in silence, Prince Zayn had also left, leaving Montgomery behind. Niall, even as light hearted as he is, had not bothered to hide his worry. And winding down by the lake as the gathering extended to the lazy, sunny afternoon, Louis felt he was privy to know what is ailing the two Prince’s if they so much as fail to contain their bad blood even in front of a stranger like him. So he queries Niall directly. 

And the young solicitor doesn’t seem to think he needs to hold back.

“When I first came to the capital, my brother Gerald was in the command of the Prince’s guard. So I was easily led in to their company. Zayn was my first acquaintance in the city… and Harold.”

Louis watches him, “You were friends with them early on. That explains.”

Niall just shrugs. “Harold was not who he is now, back then. He was young. About fifteen when I first met him. We were all young. Zayn, me, Dominic... But Harry, he was... yeah.. young. And Zayn always had a soft spot for him from the beginning I think - of his stature, his title... led to stand in a forign land by himself or that sort of thing.” 

“He is an orphan himself. Understandable.” Louis nods. 

He had seen in Athenaeum records of the Mainac family tree that there was no mention of Prince Zayn’s birth father. Zayn is a Mainac by his mother's blood and he had been adopted by King Benedict when he was younger. It wouldn’t be a surprise if Zayn saw his own reflection in the orphaned Prince placed in an unknown land despite his race.. 

“I guess.” Niall looks down. “They were close. Zayn and Harry,… thick as thieves, two pods in a pea or whatever you can call them. You wouldn’t find one without the other then. They did everything together. Ate, laughed, hunted, rode... you call it. Harry attended almost all of Zayn’s training, shared the skills only known to his race with him, and Zayn sat beside him when Harry had to attend court for his own duties… even argued with the herd of chauvinistic aristocrats in there for him. They had a laugh about it after... told us how ridiculous it all was. Harry often played the harp and he would get Zayn to sing when no one else could. Zayn was quite artistic… and it was Harry who he painted. All the time.” 

Niall shakes his head at the memories, as the summer breeze ruffled his hair freely.

“They were with each other all the time. And it felt quite normal because they were just easy with eachother." Niall sighs deep. "The house you’re in, Lord Louis… did you noticed that it's interior is an epitome of Lycan style despite it being attached to the side of the castle in the center of the capital?”

Open courtyard, dark wooden floors and ornamentation… Red and blue velvet drapes. Yes, it was too distinct to hide. Until today, Louis had assumed it was an old luxury inn used by the wealthy Lycan merchants before the wars when they travelled across the borders for their trade. How wrong he had been…And having found those tunnels that ran directly from the house gallery to Prince Harold’s chambers… the spyhole Louis had stumbled upon… was it really a spyhole at all? The padlocked door next to it that had not been opened for years… they must have sneaked in and out with it easily. Does Niall or anyone know about it at all? 

“Zayn did that to make him feel home more than anything I suppose, because things happened at the court during that time made Harry sad… an outcast. So he made that his studio and got Harry to come there when he painted. ”

“They were in love...” it was obvious now. Louis couldn’t possibly imagine how anyone around would have received such a turnout light heartedly… not only the court full of conservatives. But also the King. It must have been utterly preposterous. Sure Prince Harold is charming enough… but no amount of charm could be enough to pull such a thing.

“I guess.” Niall shrugs. “It was too gradual, normal for us to define. With how they were, we couldn’t really tell. ”

“What happened?”

“Harry was this young Lycan princeling that everyone in the castle got used to being around. Witty, quirky and adorable. His charm surpassed the fear many had for his kind. But being a Lycan, an Alpha Lycan, Harry didn’t stay just adorable for long. He grew up fast, from a scrawny boy to someone that many lusted after… strong, unapologetic and very desirable… opposite to meek Omegas they had at their toes. Some even went too far as to declare their infatuation to him.”

Taking a final inhale, Niall crushes the spent cigar on the tray intently. And he reaches for another right away, easily.

“There was this girl from the Steward family in the east, Bella. Bella Hadid. Montgomery, he was betrothed to her. It was a bit of a marriage of convenience, I suppose. Her family had ties with Dominic’s … so we all became acquainted.” he inhaled deeply. Darkly. “I don't think Bella had a much attachment to Monty regardless the engagement. Not really. And she met him, she was taken by Harry’s unapologetic presence from the beginning… It was no secret. But we never thought things would end the way it did.” Niall furrows his brows and pressed his lips to a straight line while the cigar burned between his fingers. 

Louis waits in silence for him to speak.

“It’s common knowledge that Lycans first get the moon’s influence around the age of eighteen.”

Sure… Louis just nods.

The first transition of a Lycan is said to be the most daunting shift. The first encounter of their alter-self. It is even considered sacred among the wolves. Cared and cherished with protection. How on earth the Alpha Prince go through that, sitting in the middle of a Vampire kingdom is something Louis never thought of. _He surely had help from whoever was looking after him. Right?_

“I just remember him being quite anxious as the days got closer to the full moon after his eighteenth birth date. He was restless, overwhelmed and scared... Zayn was away on a visit, representing the King, so we’d said that we’ll look out for him.” Niall pauses, his blue eyes stuck in a sadness. “He was not himself on that day, Harry… the day before the full moon. Phasing around and almost ill. Few of us, including Montgomery and Bella, stayed with him as long as we could. We knew that we had to leave before the night though, regardless. It was not safe. So, we left... But Bella, she somehow had gone back.”

Niall stares at Louis with a hard defensive look. And Louis could just stare back in silence.

“The guards found her body in the morning… or what was left of it in his chamber with him." Running his fingers through his hair, Niall averts Louis' eyes. "And when Zayn returned, it was not only to a trial that proved Harry’s guilt, but also to a one that accused him of further seduction and adultery. It was a horrid affair... You’d imagine the heartache and betrayal Zayn faced." Niall gazes afar, eyes fixed on an unpleasant memory. "Zayn left the city after the trial. Even the King couldn't stop him, I guess. To the day, he only returns when only he absolutely has to.”

Niall sniffled and sighs deep. “Zayn felt responsible for Monty’s loss somehow, and took him under his wing. And you could see how that is playing out in the open." he smiles bitterly. "I shouldn’t have burdened you with it all but well… The Crown Prince was not too adamant about hiding it either. Now you know. Marbles and gilded doors on the top but this city is not without stains even during the past few years, Lord Louis.” 

Speechless, Louis just stares as Niall continous to smoke, eyes distant. He looked sad.

“What happened in the trial… Prince Harold…” Louis has to ask. If the Prince was found guilty, how on earth did they let him go away with it? That’s not like Germia's virtuous court.

“Hadids and Montgomery families were out for blood. It is the law that any Lycan who attacks a Vampire within city walls, regardless of the reason, is to be sentenced to death. It was a day before the full moon, sure, but everything pointed at Harry. Even there were no eyewitnesses, it seemed obvious. The Hadid clan had power and influence enough to bring evidence even from the places we never imagined. From people we all trusted and knew Harry close. It seemed inevitable that they were going to sentence him to death…there was no way out.”

Surely.. so how?

“But then, the King stepped in.” Niall explains intently.

“His Grace overruled the sentence… made it null for the sake of peace between Germia and Lycans. Stated it was not about a one life that’s already lost, but so many that would be threatened, if the truce is to be broken between Homas and Germia. His Majesty assured the Hadids that he will make sure Harry would repent… and he did. Harry was... sent away for two years. And when he returned, the King welcomed him to the court, even though there was a huge backlash in the beginning.” he sighs.

"I would imagine." Having to welcome a Lycan (regardless the title) to the court must have been hard enough for it's hardcore patriots... To welcome someone who they tried to sentence for murder? Sure there would be backlash. But with the way the Lycan Prince is, Louis could understand how their ideas must have come loosen. 

“They clash at court sometimes, him and the King for matters of Homas. Like they did yesterday. But I believe Harry feels he owes his majesty his allegiance for granting him life." he says sincerely, as Louis continues to stare at him. "Harry’s not perfect. He’s just who he is. But that doesn’t mean there are reasons for how he acts the way he does most of the time.” Niall sounds calm, his tone settling into the distance in his eyes. “There’s more to him than eye meets.”

Perhaps it is the perfect remark about the enigma Prince Harold is. Is it the guilt that he carries behind his eyes that seem vacant most of the time? Or the harsh burden of living as an outcast among a race he’d never be a part of no matter how much he tried? 

Did he really fall in love with a Vampire who came from the same family that destroyed his own? Destroyed his birthright, kingdom and entire race? Someone who would not be able to surpass his nature, had opposite credence in life and bonds of love...

Did he believe that he found the bond that can tame and connect him to his alter-self? A bond that is strong enough to bind the one flaw of his nature? 

Did he believe, by any chance, that he found the one... his match... here in this impossible circumstance? 

Louis couldn’t possibly know. But he knew who did. 

The Crown Prince... Zayn.

Because he now had a good idea who must have painted that one anonymous painting now hanging in the house gallery. The one he took a liking to, coincidently... Green doe eyes, chestnut curls and features of the face… there was always an hint of a doubt that seemed impossible. But now he is certain who its seemingly anonymous painter is... and who it is he had painted.

And Louis, being a painter himself, knew that the one thing an artist couldn’t possibly deny in his art... is the _truth_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... yeah that's a lot of revelations.  
Sorry for the heartache. If you have questions, do pop them in. I'll try to answer without spoiling much.  
I do love to hear your thoughts as same as usual. So do let me know what you think.
> 
> Next chapter is going to be the end of the first part of this bane of a story. Hope you'll are ready for it.  
Please stay safe!!! Love to all.


	12. A feast of farewells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally at the brink of his time at the capital, Louis bids farewell to his many new acquaintances. And Rowland reveals the plan that doesn't make Louis that happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, it's been a while. I wanted to post sooner, but as always plans tend to not work.  
Anyway we're almost at the end of this part of the story. This is supposed to be the final chapter... but I realized it's getting a bit too long with all the small details playing around. So I broke it to two. The Next chapter will be up within days.  
Sorry for any mistakes in this. I'll come back and fix them in due time since I don't have a beta.

Setting down a plate of sweetened dates and red cherries on the breakfast table, Yaagine leaves the gallery chamber with a bow. She carefully closes the door behind her, not before giving a stern look to the timid Lycan boy standing in the corner by the wall. _ Please him _. It said. 

The boy doesn’t move an inch from where he is, waiting for a command. Louis knew by now.

He glances at the excessive lay of breakfast ahead him without much of an appetite. With various fruits, cheese, porridge, salted and sweetened breads, Yaagine had overdone the breakfast again, though she knew well by now that Louis did not care to eat much in the mornings. But today being Louis’ last day at the capital, at this house, it must have given enough reason for her to go overboard. 

Louis had requested a quiet breakfast at the gallery, without disturbance. Yaagine had made sure to serve everything without a miss, so no one other than the Lycan boy had to be present. 

“Are you hungry?” Louis asks without turning to the boy. He helps himself to some ripe peaches and cherries.

The answer takes some moments to come.

“No master” he still sounds meek, yet there is more sound to it than yesterday.

“I can hear your stomach growl from here. Don’t lie.”

The boy’s heart races a bit. “Forgive me, master.” he swallows with a small shiver.

“Come here.” Louis calls kindly gesturing with his hand.

The boy draws closer, his bare feet almost nervous. Cleaned up, he had somewhat similar features to young lord Timothee as Louis felt… a smaller, leaner version of him perhaps. Clad in a simple loose cotton, he seemed to be in much better condition than the previous morning.

Coming back from Horan’s luncheon yesterday, Louis had found the Lycan boy in his bed chamber, again, curled into a ball on his red mat at the foot of the bed, a stack of neatly folded clothes laying beside him. He had still looked petrified and unsure to the core. Rattled and confused… Louis had read his addled thoughts like a book. 

Perhaps it was a foolish thing to do, to test a terrified child foreign to this diabolical city… but Louis wanted to break him out of the fear engulfing him like a damp rag on skin. As far as he knew, Omega Lycans were resilient, perhaps more intelligent than the quick tempered Alphas… though change of times have labeled them weak and vulnerable hanging to their lesser muscular strength. 

Louis trusted the boy’s desperate need to prove himself, earn his worth to the lord he is bound to serve. So he had sent the boy on a delivery mission to Rowland’s house with instructions, only to disclose the tiny box only to Lord Rowland himself. Mainac house brand etched to his arm and a map at hand, the boy had taken the carved teak box Louis had given him without any hesitation. And he had only returned to the same spot on the mat much later into the night - with no sign of the box…

_ “Was it done?” _ Louis had only asked. 

The boy had bowed yes with brightening eyes, in clear triumph. But Louis had noticed that he had gone pale for some reason, as if he’s seen a ghost on the way. Louis doesn’t doubt his loyalty, or the innocent light sparkling in his eyes … Perhaps the task overwhelmed him. So he doesn’t press. But during the night he had heard the boy’s muffled sobs , curled on his rug on the floor… desperately trying to hide the sniveling.

“Sit with me.” Louis prompts, placing a gold glazed white plate next to him. “Eat.” 

As taken aback, Lycan boy looks at him with frightened eyes, as if he would be cursed if he sat with Louis on the same level. 

“I don’t like eating alone. And… it’s bad manners to keep a lord waiting.” Louis claims. “Eat.”

The boy swallows… slowly taking the seat Louis had directed. He sits on the edge as if he would fall from it any second. His eyes, nervous and loaded in fear, takes in the sight of the various dishes on the table in a widened awe. 

“Help yourself. Take whatever you like.”

He looks at Louis hesitantly.

“Go on. Nothing is going to bite.”

Tense to the core, the boy reaches for a savory bread… the nearest to him. He avoids gazing at the various colourful dishes and plates of fruits as if they were sinful. But surely he could smell each and every one of them… it is said that a Lycan’s sense of smell is ten times better than that of a Vampire. Only with feeding on fresh blood, could a Vampire be of a match - at least for some time.

“What is your name?” Louis asks casually, reaching for cut peaches as the boy takes his first reluctant bite. 

The boy swallows what’s in his mouth in a rush, almost choking. Louis pours water to a brass cup and gently pushes near him. But he doesn’t dare take it.

“Surely it can’t be a cough.” 

The boy grins marginally, hiding his face by looking down, fingers tight around the bread. Louis waits expectantly for an answer.

“I- I was - was not given a name, master.” the boy bows his head. “I will be called anything you please, master.” 

Louis nods. “Anything I’m pleased with, aye?” 

“Yes, master.”

“Hmmm.” he hums as if it’s a difficult task to deal with. “Your father… did he have a name?”

The boy looks at him, then casts eyes down immediately as if he’d be punished for looking at his Lord directly. Eyes buried under a mop of black curls, he slouches… hiding his face from Louis.

“F-Fingard, master.” he mumbles, as if it is a crime to utter the name. 

“I’ll call you by that name then. Fingard… Fin for short.”

The boy stares up, eyes wide, stunned. 

“Will that be alright?” Louis meets his gaze in a calm expression which makes the boy slowly avert his eyes again.

“Yes, master.” he sniffs.

“Good.” Louis smiles. “And one more thing, Fin.” 

Boy looks up at Louis again, his face a little relaxed and even a little lit up.

“I would rather not be called master.”

His timid face immediately shadows in fear again. “Yes, master.”

Louis sighs… too soon perhaps. Hopefully the next two days would be enough time to get the boy to relax. The last thing he wanted was to show up to the Resistance camp with a young omega tailing him with the word ‘_ master’ _ on his lips. The Lycan clan would pounce on his head for sure. Especially the herd of hot blooded Alphas. 

Louis had no idea what the boy might have gone through in his short life, only that he’s been brought to the capital from Narakh… where Omega Lycans are sent to be trained as slaves. Surely it couldn’t have been a pleasant experience. But the Resistance camp wouldn’t be either for someone like him. The boy would have to get used to the roughs of exiled life.

“Have you travelled much, Fin?” he asks, adding random fruits to the boys plate, realizing the boy would not reach for anything else than the piece of bread he’s soon finishing.

“N-not much, mast- Lord… s-sir.” Fin spells, effortfully, staring at the colourful fruits his plate is being piled with. He looks nervous and anxious, as if he’s out of practice on speaking and interacting with anyone casually. Maybe he is.

“As you might know, I will be leaving the capital tonight. It’s going to be a long and tiring journey. But you can join me if you prefer.”

The boy looks at Louis confused… his face, an epitome of hesitance and timidness… as if the world is spinning at a speed his young self could not catch on. Perhaps the idea of ‘choice’ is not something he’s familiar with. Louis couldn’t help but stare at him pitifully as the boy’s face started filling with fear again. It is as if he thought he had done something wrong for Louis to look at him like that.

“In simple means, today is the last day you would spend in the capital.” Louis explains. “We won’t be going to a city. Things would not be as comfortable here… food, weather. It would be cold and rainy. You’ll miss the sun and summer.” 

Fin furrows his brow, head bowed to his plate. He shakes his head, timidly. Louis catches a hint of a relief in his eyes... the first time the boy reacted clearly with something other than fear.

“Do you not like it here?” He asks with a grin.

Fin doesn’t look up, chewing fruit like a sloth. He shakes his head again slowly.

Louis watches his young features closely - there must not have been much else than pain and fear in his world. In a world where everything depended on the race, riches and power, someone like Fin is at the bottom of the food chain. He had no place, name or a choice on anything that mattered. Not even on his own life. And he, Louis had been playing with it just as anyone else. He realizes.

“I shouldn't have sent you on delivery yesterday. It must have been a hard task, this being new to the city to you. ”

Fin shakes his head timidly, hiding his face. 

“If something I ask of you is too hard to complete, I need you to tell me. I will understand. And I will not punish you by any means if you do, you have to know by now.” he says gently.

Fin doesn’t react to Louis’ words for sometime… staring at his plate without touching it. Louis could see that he is contemplating on something, blinking slower. He keeps silent until Fin finds courage to speak, 

“It was not a hard task, mast...- s-sir.” He mumbles.

“Then why were you uneasy last night? I heard you awake.” Louis watches as the boy’s eyes grow glossy. There was a sort of desperation in his face as he looks up... as if Louis would think him as unskilled. 

“I’m s-sorry, master. Please forgive me.” tears spill from his frightened eyes as he speaks. “I got lost on the way back and went into another castle different to this.” 

Louis watches him, his breath frozen. He blinks patiently. “Did anyone else find out about the delivery?”

Fin shakes his head vigorously, eyes damp. And Louis breathes out the air he was holding. Then what on earth is ailing the boy? “That's understandable. You wouldn’t know the way in one day.”

“I - I saw a slave being punished… f-for disobedience, master.” He wipes off his tears roughly from his face without looking at Louis.

Louis stares at the Omega carefully. No wonder he is terrified.

“Was it someone you know?” he asks.

Fin shakes his head slowly, still not looking up.

"Did someone tend to him after...?" Louis asks sympathetically.

Find gulps hard, looking down. “He was executed… in-in front of a crowd.” he adds in a small battered voice.

Louis just stares at his tearing face. _ Executed? _Omega slaves can’t be publicly executed in Germia… not without the court’s consent. It is the law as far as Louis knew. It would be a grotesque arena of pleasure killings if it was not. Louis thinks despicably. But who would publicly execute a slave then? Apart from Klaus, there is only one Lycan sentenced to death in court the other day. 

“Do you know where you went, Fin?” Louis asks solemnly.

Fin sniffs, tears leaking down freely. “I’m sorry, master. I swear I didn’t mean to go there. I swear…”

“I know.” Louis sighs, trying his best to be patient. 

Does this mean Prince Harold had signed the order to put the slave to death? The slave who apparently disobeyed Montgomery by aiding the Prince in some way? Louis didn’t know things for sure, but from the clash they had at the luncheon, it was easy to assume that it was Montgomery getting back at Prince Harold in their ongoing clash. Lame and cruel for sure. But it was not like the Prince had a choice anyway. 

“Mast...- Sir,” Fins starts unexpectedly. Probably the first time he initiated to speak rather than answering something Louis had asked. Progress. But he closes his mouth after, thinning his lips to a line as if he had crossed a line.

“You can call me Sir or My Lord, Fin. And if you wish to ask something, you can.” He encourages him.

Fin looks at him carefully, his young eyes trying to assess the noble in front of him. He bites his lip before speaking,

“D-does our P-Prin-ce really live in thi-s city, M-milord?” he asks timidly, a brush of hope in his tone. 

“The Prince of Homas?” Louis asks. “Yes… Why?”

Fin gulps thickly and looks down, guiltily. 

“T-the master who p-punished the slave s-said he would s-send his .. the slav-es h-head to the wolf p-prince in the castle... t-to bid f-farewell to h-his subject. A slave next to me said he r-really meant it. That he would really send his head to-to our Prince for r-real. I-I wasn’t ...I didn’t k-know he lived here. ” 

As little as Louis knew him since yesterday, it is likely something that Montgomery would say for sure… or perhaps even do. Prince Harold had the blood of Montgomery’s betrothed on his hands. He had enough reasons to seek revenge as Louis felt. But how much of it is truly justified if the price is innocent lives?

“Where else would he be? He is a member of the Germia’s court. Isn’t it common knowledge that he lives in Germia? ”

“They s-say in Narakh that Prince Starlinson resides in Lanvish, consort to his majesty, the King.”

Louis almost laughs at this. He understands how the gossip and talk work. While the Resistance and exiled rebels believed the Homas Prince to be a King’s puppet and a traitor, the Lycans at the slave city, Narakh are led to believe he’s the King’s consort. Perhaps it serves their purpose to paint this dramatized character hidden behind the Germias’ walls… It is a question how many of the Lycans, apart from the Omega slaves serving in the castle, had actually met Prince Harold.

“Have you ever seen Prince Starlinson for real, Fin?”

Fin purses his lips, “No, milord.” he shakes his head slowly, almost sad. “They say he’s the most handsome Alpha Prince that ever lived.” he says with an innocent light present in his childish eyes. Shyness forgotten, admiration poured out from his face for someone he imagined to be majestic, almost devine. “They say that he’s strong and noble like a dire wolf, that he’s brave and protective beyond anything. And that he can’t be killed. I’ve heard the ones who were with him when he was at Narakh.” 

Small Omega’s eyes shine in delight as he speaks about the Prince. Fin probably had no idea that Louis is related to the King. Weight of titles and politics seem hardly subjects of his world anyway. Louis smiles without a comment. It is a good thing that the image of the heroic and handsome Prince can give these cornered Omegas some hope.

“Would you like to see him before we leave tonight then?” he asks with a grin, watching the young Omega’s turn his whole body towards him as in shock. “I can’t promise. I would try.” he says tilting his head while looking at him. “But I can assure you that he’s as handsome and charming as they’ve told you.”

Fin, with all hesitance forgotten this time, stares at Louis with wide anticipating eyes, face blooming up as he’s been offered a fortune he’d never imagined to have.

..........

In a corner of his dirty, underground cell, Klaus pushes hard to even his breath. If he gave in to his body to decide, he would start heaving on air. He leans back on the rough, damp wall behind him feeling a little dizzy… things are going to get worse soon.

He knew that no one could see the silver moon yet, but an Alpha could feel its presence in the sky way before it ignites. All his senses had already started to escalate ahead of him… Every little sound already screeching in his ears, and every movement seem to lash at his head… even the torch burning dully outside the silver bars of his cage had started to drive him mad. It shouldn’t even be mid day yet, but his fever is slowly rising… and he could feel the pricking sensation in his own flesh… which will grow into an intolerable burning around the sunset. And he would be withering in madness, passing the point that he would not remember his own name anymore. 

A warm, thick dampness trickles down his nose... effect of wolfbane, Klaus knew. He would not be able to turn now, to take his wolf form in exchange for ridding the flesh-tearing pain. Not with Wolfsbane and Vervain poisoning his blood, paralyzing him useless. Instead, he’ll pay by yielding his sanity to the unforgiving silver moon. 

But it would be a small price to pay in return for his life.

The moment he woke up in the Germian prison all those days back, he knew that death was inevitable. No Alpha, apart from the Prince, had lived after capture. No Alpha. There was no need for a trial and verdict in his mind… he knew they were going to kill him anyway, despite the Prince’s attempt to pardon him at court, probably at his own expense. There was no hope… absolutely no hope for him to escape. definitely not after he was put into this isolated underground cage different to the jail he shared with the imprisoned Omegas. 

Not until yesterday…

After he was put in here, he had only been visited by an Omega to feed him… or check on him maybe. Vampire soldiers were scared of him. He knew. Especially with the approaching full moon, they wanted nothing to do with him. They were terrified of his nature. As they should be. Klaus had accepted his fate. His soon approaching death. He deserved it for what he had done for sure. He was at peace.

But then everything changed yesterday evening.

The Omega who visited him had handed him a little box and clear instructions. _“Drink it today, and you’ll find a passage for life.” _he had said.

Eyes blank, no visible emotion on face… Klaus knew the Omega was compelled. And the brew in the bottle…the smell, the colour... he knew what it was. And who it is from.

The Resistance… Alison.

How they made it happen though… he had no idea. With his attempt over the Prince’s life, their most powerful ally in the city, Rowland would never agree to help him. It is a fact that his loyalty laid with the Prince, not the Resistance or the cause. Payne would have to find a miracle to get his support again for sure. So how?

Could it be the Prince himself? He did fight for Klaus’s life in that courtroom of injustice - even though he must have clearly known it is impossible and utterly risky to defy the King in front of his army of fanatics. He was clearly threatened by the King at the mercy of all those watching. The Prince can’t be that foolish or rash enough to aid Klaus to escape now, especially when fingers would undoubtedly point at him if Klaus disappeared at the brink of his death sentence.

Who would risk to get him out now? 

Is fate playing tricks on him, giving him a fool’s hope for his survival when he had finally made up his mind to bow down to death? 

Before all this, before everything fell apart in the world, he had led a privileged life of a second grade royal… luxury, indulgence and no real responsibility. Nothing was expected of him other than his presence and ability to pass his seed on to a worthy womb once or twice before the end of his time. As an Alpha in his built and size, and with the royal Stralinson line attached to his name, he never had a shortage of willing, anticipating females… even at times males. But with three older Alpha brothers before him, his presence really meant nothing in the Homas court, neither his offspring … some he hasn't even met. As the youngest in the family, he doubted if the Homas crown even spared him a second thought. But everything changed with the fall of the Lycan kingdom, followed by the demise of his brothers and the fate of the young Alpha Prince. 

For the past ten years he had been convinced by the others and himself that he, as the last able royal Alpha should step up to the top to claim the title… that it is up to him to cut down the traitorous Prince who had sided with the malistic Vampire King and sit on the throne. 

But now… after what he’s seen and come to know, everything seems bleak and wrong. It is all utterly, cringingly wrong... what they have done.

Perhaps his ancestors are giving him a second chance. A way to correct the wrong he had done again… and more. Maybe this suffering that is about to consume from dusk to dawn is his atonement for betraying the rightful Alpha Prime, his Prince who he vowed to protect, once upon a time. 

He would bear it. He would have to.

Klaus had emptied the bottle without much contemplation yesterday, without too much thought. What else does he have to lose? 

He gives up wiping the blood off his nose as it keep bleeding out. It is going to be a crude night of agitation and endurance… he knew. The moon’s power was already upon him, he could feel it in his bones. And he could feel the venom of the brew poisoning him all the same.

He closes his eyes shut, trying to ready himself for the storm that is about to hit

It will be some hours until his own body would betray him entirely. Until then, he’d feel every bit of it… the burning, the pain, hunger and madness. But it will be all worth it. If he passed through this hurdle, if he managed to go back, and could find a way to save their Alpha Prince from the clutches of Germia. He would be able to help him unite their faction, and be by his side when it’s the time for their banners to ride for the war once and for all. 

And that… that is enough hope for him to hold on to until the dawn of tomorrow.

............

_ “To the high King, Lord Benedict Windsor Mainac of Germia, _

_ A set of Silverdane documents in a recent retrieval have sparked our interest. The content would be problematic at the hand of the enemy, therefore, calls for urgent royal attention. _

_ Sighed Mastar Sandoff, _

_ Academia of Angara _

Louis reads out the scripted lettering on the aged, worn off piece of parchment King Benedict had handed him.

His uncle had been careful not to step into the territory of discussing fires of Academia with Louis in their previous conversation, avoiding the subject as if it’s sore. So why now, at the brink of his departure? He stares at the red wax mark of the three headed eagle of the _ Academia of Angara _ next to the name _ , _tolerating the King’s hard eyes on his reaction.

“Interesting news at the time it was sent almost fifty years ago, I’m sure.” Louis admits. “ Glad to see that you’ve had your informants at all corners, uncle. The relevance however...” he pauses deliberately, running his finger across the red seal slowly. 

The King scoffs, stood in the middle of the room as the maids garbed him with fine materials and exquisite jewels. 

The final grand celebratory feast is about to start at the grand hall of the castle - everything was ready. But Louis would have to hurry back to the house and change before the feast to blend in with the rest of the nobles and lords, comparing his simple doublet and breeches to the King’s extravagant robes. Louis hopes that Yaagine and her handmaidens would take the matters to their hands and choose something suitable for him to wear as they have done for the past few days. 

Perhaps he’d be fashionably late… saves him from most of the formalities in the beginning.

Louis had planned to bid his farewell to the King later that night, in front of the crowd. That way he wouldn’t have to have another face off with the King. But alas, the King had requested his presence before the feast - demanded to know his decision on his request to join court… though being surprisingly calm about his answer, considering. 

He knew that the King would be openly unimpressed. He was ready for it. But what Louis did not expect was a calm façade, and an explanation he did not ask for. _ When did his uncle ever offer anything unless there is a gain? _ He surely had graver motives behind his face. 

“What… are you trying to prove me you’re dumb now?” Benedict smirks. “That’s a development. Thought you are adamant on proving your cleverness, nephew. .”

“I have no intention to prove I’m anything, uncle. At least not in the capital.” he gets up from the chair, leaving the piece of paper on the table. “But I’d say you are taking me for a fool if you're trying to make me believe that you had the best interests when you sent your troops to burn down the Academia, cutting all other access roads after. My sister would have been alive-”

“I don't ** _try_ ** to make anyone do anything around here, Louis.” Benedict spits, his voice ringing in the silence of the dressing chamber. “That’s what everyone here does one way or the other... - FUCKING TIGHTEN THE CODE WOMAN!!” The King lashes, directing his anger at the maid, swinging his hand as one of the sleeves comes loose again after she attended it.

“Insufferable bitch! Tying a fucking garb proper is too hard for you, eh? Pathetic scum! I’ll have your head for the incept next time!!” He roars. 

The meek maid shivers as she starts re-doing the codes while the King glares daggers at her. And there, just like that, the cracks of his patience come to light.

Louis binds his arms and just stands there, letting his own fume die. The last thing he wanted was to give the King a reason to condition him to stay, just like he did last time. But he wouldn't let his uncle wash his hands off of his sister’s fate, pointing to some mystery letter to justify his attack on Academia. 

The maids brings out a long, velvet red cape and Germia's famous golden crown on a dark velvet cushion. The crown looks as heavy as Louis remembers, etched with blood rubies, emeralds and black gems. It should be such a burden to wear, literary as same as metaphorically. The heavy gold necklace they put on the King covers half of his chest, like an armor that glittered blinding his enemies... surely it would make a daring impression in front of his guests today - only if they are all not blinded by their own jewels. 

"When are you set to leave then?" the King asks without looking at Louis, as if he's forgotten his anger.

"Tonight, around midnight, uncle."

The King scoffs at that lightly, "I'll be heading West shortly. You could've joined the ride and head north if you'd spare few more days to capital." Benedict suggest, almost in a jesting tone.

Louis just sighs, "I'd rather head out today. I've only come for the week, My Lord."

"You after some lass in Hampshion then? Or lads in that case... Couldn't be just your mother pulling you back. Haven't you seen better specimens here in court than in the damp mud pits? There'd be enough falling for you with just the mention of your name. I remember how it was back then with your silvery looks. Didn't even have to try to get the eyes on you from every corner any time. The shining white night ready for action. Huh!" The King cackles aloud.

Louis shrugs. "I've had my time." he offers easily with a marginal smile. 

"You sure did." The King says, watching Louis carefully. His eyes grimaces once again as the maids start tying the cape around the King's neck.

And just like that, he is back in the point again...

“The place was already on fire when troops reached Angara to retrieve whatever was found, or so I was told.” The King reveals solemnly, “Master Sandoff was loyal to the crown and a trusted informant inside the Academia. He had no reason to lie. If he reached out in such a way, it could not be nothing.”

“A building with such guard and security can’t catch on fire by itself, uncle. You can not believe all five hundred scholars with knowledge and ability inside just stood and watched while the fires burnt thousand years old scriptures and records as well as their own bodies.” 

“Maybe they are dumb as stones! Or maybe the rebel scum is responsible! Maybe they had an internal friction about killing Malakai that blew out the place. How should I know?! The damn scholars inside those walls were far radicalized for their own good. I wouldn’t have conquered the whole of Emorous if I was tactless enough to attack an independent establishment right next to Homas with an army of Alphas at the time. ” 

The King waves the maids to retire, leaving the crown on the carved teak table. The King sits on an armchair next to it, leaving Louis standing. He glances at Louis clearly contemplating his own words. 

“The bloody Resistance started painting heinous stories to win favor of the public, Louis... and you believe the lies as the same as any simpleton.” He chuckles. “So much for the diplomacies.” 

“You closed the borders, uncle. You had me and the rest of my family confined to our manor for months until you swept off the rubble from the ground.” Louis hisses with gritted teeth.” By the time I could get there, even the ashes were gone.” 

Louis’ interest to be civil with his uncle is veining at a speed. The very tone he speaks about the unmeasurable tragedy of lost lives and knowledge in the fires of Academia - as it is some irrelevant incident in the past… there was no regret in his eyes. Or guilt. He was as cold blooded as the day he ordered Louis and his family to house arrest while the news of Academia burnt through the capital.

“There were conspiracies… traitors in every corner. I couldn’t care less if the radicalized cutthroats burnt each other down south! But I had to make sure whatever Master Sandoff concerned about wouldn’t find its way to the enemy’s hands. I had to make sure that there’s nothing to be found on that burnt ground to harm the crown by anyone.” King preaches, his eyes unblinking.

“You thought _ I _ was conspiring against the crown?”

Benedict sighs. “It was a time of misguidance and chaos. Spies of the enemy were everywhere. Not much cause was needed to side with the fanatic rebels raging havoc all around.”

“You said you trust your family.” Louis wasn’t surprised, not really… But he doesn’t let his voice carry that.

“Aye! I do! The King exclaims, cracking his fist on the table. “You think you and your wretched mother would be alive if I didn’t consider you worthy of the benefit of doubt?”

Louis watches his uncle calmly - the way his uncle’s facade melts down like paint. The permanent creases of his age old forehead lines deeper, with his sceptical gaze and face morphing into an egoistic sneer. His shadedy eyes oozes smug supremacy like an easy habit that had consumed him. Finally, Louis is face to face with the familiar madness he’d known to reflect out of the King’s face since he’d known him. 

“So you sent spies after us. With us. I was aware.” he tilts his head slightly, slowly.

“We won’t share blood if you weren’t.” Benedict grunts. 

“Perhaps.” Louis shrugs, “Didn’t see why you shouldn’t have your assurance. But the real question is, how many returned back to your service.”

The King grunts a laugh, shaking his head as there was a jester amid two of them. Louis stares, arms crossed at his chest. 

“See, this is why I want you to return back to where you belong, nephew. You know how to play even when the things fly off the road.” he scoffs, gesturing to the crown sitting beside him on it’s velvet pillow, he gazes at Louis pointedly. “Help your King with this ruddy thing. It shrinks by the day, I jest you not. I find it getting tighter around my head like a snake tightening it’s knot.”

And he obeys… taking the heavy object from both his hands, he places it to the King’s head carefully. Benedict lets out a long, deep sigh as Louis fixes it around.

“It was unfortunate about your sister,… my niece.” Benedict says, a hint of sympathy mingled in his tone. “Nothing could have saved her there with a ten feet tall flame above the building. Not even you.” Getting up to his feet, the King phases forward. “I won’t lie to you… I hoped you would heed my words and stay this time. Legacy that the house of Mainac is should ride with glory… and it will be so only if we stand united, not scattered around like some sheep.”

“I am no Mainac. I’ve never been.” Louis sighs warily.

“Oh come off it, Louis.” King scoffs turning his eyes on Louis. “You’re my nephew. You can call yourself Tomlin or whatever you like. But you know well that you’re a Mainac in the world’s eye. You will always be a Mainac, the house that conquered Emorous and led our people to victory. We are the ones that had courage and power to show that the Lycan barbarians and the weak humans are not fated to rule or share our lands, but to serve in their rightful place.” his eyes turn thoughtfully faraway for a second. “And soon... we’ll find a perpetual solution to the Lycan problem. And the noble Nosferatu would be free of all threats.” 

_ Nosferatu? _ Louis blinks at the word. And the way his uncle says it. Nosferatu, the concept of first Vampires - or the pure Vampires and their supremacy over other living things has been the root to all their debates in the first place. It is a topic of the fanatics and extremists who would kill for the purity of blood. After all these years, conquests, lost lives and chaos, Louis wanted to believe the King had given it a rest. For the sake of his need to get out of the city today, he skips over the word and rakes at the rest of it. 

“Lycan problem?” he repeated. “I thought Lycans stopped being a problem long back.”

Benedict scoffs. “It’s never stopped.”

“Few rebels living at the outskirts of Grey Forest are not a threat, uncle. They haven't been for years. They don’t have a rightful heir by their side. You’ve conquered Homas. You have their Prince, the one they call the_ Alpha Prime, _serving you at your court. What threat can Lycans pose without him by their side?” 

“Their Prince?” the King repeated back. “That little cunt won’t yield unless I knock his knees and pin him to the ground.” the King gritted his teeth. “He’s willing to serve me the same as he was willing to sentence that barbaric oaf who gutted him out to die.”

The bitterness in his tone amuses Louis. 

Does the seething resentment in the King’s eyes have anything to do with the catastrophic affair between the two Princes Horan revealed about... or is it simply his prejudice over the entire faction of Lycans?

Sure, it would have been a mediocre lover’s quarrel anywhere else...between anyone else. But with the death of the Hadid girl, consequences of this fall out must be more troublesome than it appears. Because it had driven the Crown Prince away from the capital and the court to escape betrayal and heartbreak. Is this what the King was worried about? The Crown Prince failing his title over a one from an inferior race? The one who was also the key to the patched up truce between Germia and Homas?

Maybe the one fueled the other and vice versa… he couldn’t guess. Knowing his bigotry stance, Louis could imagine the predicament his uncle must have been in when he had to step in to save Prince Harold from a death sentence despite everything to hold the peace. Many, including Horan might have felt that the King had done a favour to his ward, Prince Harold, out of consideration. But Louis knew that the King couldn’t possibly afford to lose the Alpha Prince by any chance, so the Lycans would be free to choose a leader out of the Starlinson bloodline and be rid of their Prince in captivity for good.

“Lycan schmuck has no shame or gratitude. His sympathy is with himself and his brutish kind. You saw it at the court yourself.” 

The King settles into a thoughtful stance, calculating and grim as Louis watches.

“But I might have found a way.” he says, more to himself than to Louis, eyes at something only he could see. “Sooner or later he will submit to me whether he likes it or not. And I will rule his Alphas like he never did.” 

Benedict turns his gaze at Louis then, breaking away from whatever his mind was at. 

“I would rather have the ones I trust and know around me when that happens. You belong in this city Louis. Not in a mud huddled bog that no one cares about. You and your siblings should be here where your true family dwells. Where your father pledged his allegiance. You are all Mainacs by blood no matter how hard your witless mother tries to deny it. It’s time the lot of you left her tits and returned where you belong. There soon will be a time when this city needs you. When your King needs you.” 

It is an authoritative tone. Yet for some reason the King seems to settle back into his patient, measuring façade than to fury and madness. Louis is not sure which is more alarming at this point. He couldn’t possibly depart with foul terms with the King. Not this time. 

“I’ve been off the board for too long, uncle. The political chess game in Germia is not for me. It never has been. You should know more than anyone.”

The King stares at him solemnly again, as if assessing Louis’ face. “You’d be the first to deny a direct request to join the Germian court and refuse your King. And it’s not your first time refusing a request by the crown as I remember. I might run out of patience.”

“I’m not disobeying an order, My Lord.”

“Then what? I asked you to stay, and you are saying no. Or did I not understand your wise, riddled words, Louis?”

“I would return…” he says, knowing he’s trapping himself in his own words. “... in time of need. In true time of need.” Louis gazes warily at the King and the King at him. “I will come back. But as for now, while Germia and the rest of the realm is at its ripe, let me go where I’d rather be at peace in Hampshion.”

King Benedict stares at Louis, as if measuring him left to right. Louis allows him to stare back, stance relaxed - as if he had nothing to hide. 

“I assume that you plan not to walk with me to open the feast today then.” the King comments calmly, looking at Louis’ modest attire.

“I would rather not. Your subjects will consider me a barbarian if I show up like this. I’ll come changed.”

King sighs. “Suit yourself then” He says getting up, a marginal disappointment in his tone. “Farewell then.” 

Louis bows his head intently. “Farewell, uncle.”

..................

It is not yet dark when Louis finally arrives at the grand royal feast to close the five day celebrations. But still, he was late. And calm enough, considering what this night is leading to be...

Standing at the grand entrance of the open oak doors, the first thing Louis notices is that it is a rather colourful affair unlike the inauguration feast themed in blacks and gold a few days back . The King and his subordinates had already taken their seats at the high table in the other end, as well as the throng of nobles flashing their exquisite riches and what not. Rowland should be there somewhere as well, or so Louis hopes. The last thing he wanted was to have him left already - though Louis doubted Rowland would leave this early. 

There must have been a grand entrance and an esteemed speech from the King, followed by music and performances as same as the first feast as he heard from Timothee yesterday. And Louis was not sorry that he missed any of it much.

The decorations were extensively vibrant and bright, along with the radiantly dressed nobles. So it doesn’t take much time for him to spot the one person he was searching for amid the lords and ladies of the head table, dressed in elegant white this time.

With shooting red in the first feast now this… perhaps the Lycan Prince has an impeccable taste for attention, or whoever chose his garbs wants to make him a display item in front of the gathered guests. Whichever it was, the outcome makes things easier for Louis at least. 

“Fin.” turning back, he calls the Lycan boy that stood nervously hiding behind Radel and Ellish.

The boy’s eyes that had been following the passing Vampire nobles fearfully shoots at Louis instantly. His slouched frame sets to a bow. 

“Seems it’s your lucky day.” Louis grins, signaling him to come closer to the grand door.

Fin obeys, swallowing nervously, his face lined with hesitation. He looks between Louis’ face and the exquisite great hall as he steps forward carefully, as if he is meant to be walking on thin ice.

“There… in the far corner, at the head table. He’s dressed in white.” Louis points with his chin towards the head table far ahead, not really looking at the Prince himself. Less distractions the better today, he tells himself.

Anxiously, Fin takes a peek, hanging on to the frame as if he was not supposed to see what’s in front of him. His eyes, already wide and unsure.

“I’m sorry it’s a far away view. But it’s better than nothing, I guess.” 

Louis could have taken him to the feast but then it would surely land him with questions and remarks from many,... he neither had time or patience for it today. And the last thing he wanted was to overwhelm the boy putting him amid nobles. So Fin would have to be satisfied with this. 

But looking at the Omega’s widened eyes fixed at the white wearing Prince at the far end, the way his young face is overpouring with awe and delight, Louis could see the boy is beyond thrilled. He gawked as if he was staring at some pleasant dream while awake… as if he is blessed by the sight of the Lycan Prince if anything. And Louis feels better for some reason, for being able to do something for the boy even though it was this small worthless gesture before he dumped him in that damp thick forest with the rebels. Perhaps the boy would even forgive him for that.

After several more moments Louis lets Radel take Fin back to the house to get ready for the long journey ahead. Rowland had suggested that they wait until after midnight, so they are sure that the potion worked on Klaus. The last thing any of them needed was to deal with a predatory Alpha under the spell of the full moon… blood thirsty and insane. Having to hide an unconscious Alpha in his coach is surely bad enough. Looking up at the slightly reddening clouds, Louis doesn’t see any signs of the moon yet. They’d have long summer days to thank for that… the light won’t go out until as late as nine o’clock. So Louis should have enough time to go back and shred the fancy attire before heading out on the road. 

With a sigh he turns towards the entrance, then pauses noting his valet’s eyes on him. Pressing his lips thin, Louis regards Ellish, who bows at him lightly. 

During the past few days since they had come to the capital, Louis had not explained much to Ellish. Technically he didn’t have to. Louis was, and is his Lord. But it hadn’t been his usual way in Hampshion. There is less regard to formalities there, and less dramatics… Louis knew that Ellish is not accustomed to the many ways of the capital, though he certainly seems to try to go along with it following Louis’ lead. The Lycan slaves, pretentious nobles, shams, lies and extravaganza that covers all of it. Surely the things are strange enough without what Louis had been up to. 

He knew Ellish is loyal enough to not to question anything - even to the extent of looking away when Louis got himself an Omega slave, a child barely old enough to do his own bidding. But tonight he needed more of that silence and looking away from Ellish than anything else. Because what he had to do tonight is much graver than anything he had done so far in the capital. 

“This won’t take long,” he says intently with an imploring gaze. “I rather you wait around here, Ellish. We’ll go back for a change of clothes and there is a collection to do on the way before we leave the capital.” he explains.

“My lord.” Ellish bows again, not too curious about the slight change of plan. 

If he had any idea Louis was going to smuggle a drugged Alpha Lycan out of the capital on the night of the full moon, yeah - Ellish would surely be more alarmed.

“The bottom compartment is empty as I wanted?” he asks.

“It is, my lord.” the valet says dutifully.

“Ellish.” Louis sighs, prompting the valet to look up at him. “There are things… things that I need to do today.” he says quietly with a wary look on his eyes that makes Ellish just stare. “And I need you to trust me with it all no matter what comes. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord.” Ellish nods indifferently. Edge of his mouth slightly turns upwards then. “The Lycan boy, Fin… are you taking him to Hampshion with you, my lord?” He sounds almost nervous for some reason.

Louis clicks his tongue and stares. “No.” he attempts a smile.

Ellish nodes carefully. “Didn’t think so too. Lady Johanna would take a fit.”

Louis grins looking at him. 

“She would.” he agrees, taking a step back. Ellish bows again watching him leave. “I won’t be long.” Louis says ones more as he steps towards the entrance, hands clipped at his back.

  
  


Once inside the grand hall, an usherer offers to direct him to his seat. The main course had already started, and the music was on a lighter swing probably after the opening event.

The table set-up for the night was similar to the inauguration feast, Louis notices as he follows the usherer. But with the amplified scheme of colours, everything looked a complete contrast. With crystal chandeliers hanging down every corner, the diamond embroidered draping and richly gilded furnishing managed to create magnificence through the pillared hall in such an excessive way Louis hadn’t seen anywhere else in a time he remembered. Surely mining all the gold and coal that must have belonged to Homas had improved Germia’s treasury in the past ten years.

“Thought you’ve decided to ditch us already, Lord Louis.” 

Niall chants, holding his glass up as Louis makes his way to the table at the very front near the head table. 

“Should have guessed you’d be taking more time with the finery. Midnight blue suits you in a way that any lass or lad would shed even the Crown Prince for you… believe me.” Niall drags the empty chair next to him with a groan, already heavily drunk. 

Louis raises his brows, looking around as Jeffroy shakes his head beside Niall.

“Do excuse the drunken, My Lord.” Jeffory smiles apologetically, “We really thought you’d already left.”

“I do seriously doubt if anyone would choose me over Prince Zayn.” Louis grins, “Have to admit that I might have tried to avoid the head table, but wouldn’t dare leave without a proper farewell, Lord Horan. And must I even say that you look just fine as always?” He takes the seat beside Niall, taking in the faces in their table with silent greetings..

“You are too kind, Lord Louis. Too kind.” Niall sighs deep reaching for his cup once again . “We could have used you here.” he says moodily and empties the drink while Jeffory looks away, ignoring Horan’s disappointed tone. 

Something tells Louis that the young lord is not in his cheery best. And he doubts if it has anything to do with his own planned departure. He had the same kind of resignation yesterday when he revealed about the friction between the two Princes to Louis. And he could tell that Horan worried about Prince Harold, being privy to see the real imbalance of power between the parties even everyone else seemed to pretend otherwise. Perhaps they clashed again today, the two Princes. It was clear to Louis that Horan feels caught in the middle of all of it in a way, maybe because he’d been friends with both of them since early on. But hopefully Prince Zayn and his clan are not foolish to provoke the Lycan Prince today. An Alpha is a dangerous thing to play with on a full moon day, regardless of their conflicts...even if he didn’t come out as threatening. 

Up on the head table, just a glance is enough to single out the two of them amid all the colour, as one was wearing white and the other was his signature pitch black. It looked rather ironic that, as same as their seating on different sides to the King. And up there, Louis finally finds the face he was looking for as well.

_ Rowland. _

Dressed in vibrant red and violet, no wonder it took this long for Louis to notice he was there right next to Prince Zayn’s brooding form. Conversing with the councilor, Lady Mayfur, Rowland seemed at ease - despite the plans ahead. He must have played this for a longtime, Louis realizes to his own relief. 

“He won’t hang out for long.” across the table, Mendes offers as if he expected him to be relieved with the detail. Apart from Horan and Jeffory, only Mendes sat at the table from their circle… probably due to the titles and formalities of the court. 

Louis looks at him questioningly as Mendes looks at the head table over his shoulder for a second.

“Prince Harold,” Mendes explains, turning back “You seem to wonder why he’s here, today being a full moon day.” 

Louis tilts his head slightly, glancing up at the Lycan Prince closely this time. And maybe he shouldn’t have. Chestnut curls, poised perfect features he looks ethereal in white this close. But there was something past his elegance this time… somber, melancholic almost, as if he was grieving amid this merry celebration. Strangely, he reminds Louis of Taylor Allison for some reason, the Witch… Lycan Prince’s betrothed - flowless... perfect. Maybe it’s his white garbs, or maybe it’s the absence of his usual cocky smile or stoic, unapologetic expression - but this close, he looks like a different person almost. Louis had seen him without his usual glossy masks before… vulnerable and sad in the privacy of his chambers. But even that was a different look from today. Today, he looks weighted, resigned. And Louis is sure he had every reason to be.

“Can’t say I didn’t.” Louis admits looking back at Mendes.

In a way Louis did wonder. The Prince should be under proper protection, away from this crowd today for everyone’s safety, including himself. His graceful, sad appearance is not a guarantee that he won’t turn into nature's apex predator at the rise of the moon. But surely appearances are more important than safety in this city.

“Many do, My Lord. But Harold’s no danger. He always leaves before the nightfall.” Mendes sounds confident. As if he knew for sure that the monsters under the bed were mere stories. “The King’s guard makes all the necessary arrangements to accommodate Prince Harold until dawn.”

“I’m sure.” Louis decides to say, despite his urge to snort. 

Accommodate an Alpha Lycan on a full moon? Who are they kidding? Surely they all know that the only way to stop a bloodthirsty Alpha wolf craving to claw and kill is to lock him up in a silver mixed metallic cage, right? So that he would claw and scrape himself instead. Accommodate…what a fancy word. 

Next to Mendes, a noble with a bold head in emerald and gold robe clears his throat, assured the topic needed his input. “May I mention that the effect of the moon is said to be different from Lycan to Lycan.” he utters as if divulging some sacred knowledge. 

Mendes doesn’t look happy at the intrusion. He sets his mouth to speak, but then flattens his lips, refraining to comment with a slight twitch at his eyes. The noble continues anyway.

“They say that some tend to get antagonistic, hostile and some ferocious,” he lowers his voice as if it’s shameful to say out loud. “ ...or even lustful and sadistic. Whatever the way their blood boils I guess. Even cannibalism isn’t too far fetched if you ask me.” He wets his lips and lowers his voice further, “- It can’t be different with him… royal or not. They are animals.” 

“And you know this by experience I assume, Lord Garnley?” From Louis’ side, Niall intervenes out of nowhere, defensive to the core even at his drunken state. “Surely you have a couple of Alphas tied at the back of your castle to know things in detail.” 

Mendes bites his lip trying to cover his smirky grin as Niall and Jeffory both glare at the Vampire, daring him to continue. 

“No. But...-” he stammers, seeing no one coming to his defense. His expression turns to a scowl though, clearly searching for the right words to play.

“Then I suggest you keep your odious opinions to yourself, My Lord. Because the King wouldn’t appreciate his ward being a subject to such trivial gossip.” Horan declares with a finality.

The prejudiced noble backs away, taken aback with the mention of the King. And Horan turns away as if nothing happened. 

It amuses Louis to see such loyalty coming from any Vampire towards a Lycan - Prince or not. They all surely considered Prince Harold one of them to act as such even in his absence… although in reality, there was some truth to what was said about Alphas and their connection to the full moon. And as revealed by Niall yesterday, Prince Harold had proven the fact once already with a dead girl hanging at the back. Louis could understand that whatever happened at the time, including the trial, was hidden from the public eye for a good reason. But that didn’t mean that there is any less danger to be cautious about...nor will it tame the endless speculation about the Lycan Prince’s faring inside the castle walls. 

Looking up at Prince Harold again, Louis realizes how much of a courage he must have to wield just to be sitting there in front of this crowd. To be their subject of amusement, delusions and discussions, knowing that everything would turn against him in a blink of an eye if he so much as slipped an inch. It must be a difficult life of constant fear and apprehension if anything. Different to anything the Resistance or his kind outside the capital imagines him living. 

And Louis fails to decide what the Lycan Prince should get from him for that ... sympathy or admiration.

The clattering of glasses and voices grow steadily above the underlying music as the conversations move from topic to topic in the dinner tables. 

After Horan and his friends’ clear declaration of support to the Lycan Prince, their table seems to stick to less controversial topics such as Germia’s treasury earnings and eastern sea territories. Louis had been surprised to find out that King Benedict had managed to forge enough relations with the east to make them Germia’s close allies. Seems the Hadids that control the east kingdoms had come to better agreements. It is said that the reason it took long to concur Homas was that Germia had no real power over the seas, though in the end the numbers and riches won the wars. No wonder the King was eager to win over the east. With coastal kingdoms of east by his side, the King would be undefeatable now, having the greatest armada of Emorous at his disposal. 

It is a good distraction, small talk and politics. It helps Louis to keep things calm more than anything. Horan’s drunk antics beside him and thriving conversations takes the edge off of the fact that he’s hours away from committing direct treason. Something Louis thought he’d never agree to doing during his life. But what bothered him more was that he didn’t feel much objection within himself for it as he thought it would… On the contrary he felt a cold obligation that had a little to do with his sister... to just get on with it to whatever the end. 

As the light starts to fall outside, the feast takes a turn. The music turns louder as to prompt the ladies and lords to dance. And many do, leaving the tables to join the floor. Both Jeffory and Mendes disappear in the crowd as well as most in their table. Glued to his chair, Louis notices the King finally getting up to leave - and Prince Harold along with him. It is discrete, subtle enough that the move is not noticeable unless you were at the front. And Louis could understand… who wanted attention when you are about to turn into a beast of madness.

It is impossible to imagine the flawless, graceful man following his uncle with downcast eyes will be turning into a bloodthirsty monster within a few hours. It is probably no surprise that Prince Zayn fell for him like he did, despite the knowledge.

“You could have stayed longer, Lord Louis. It would have been good for him to have someone like you to care for him.” Niall babbles beside him, observing the leaving party.

Louis turns to him, lifting a brow. But Niall doesn’t seem bothered.

“The way you look at him… it’s hard to miss.” he shrugs. 

“Shall I comment that you are drunk enough, Horan.”

“I really am.” Niall grins gently as if more convinced. “Doesn’t change the fact.”

Louis should have argued, that is a proper strange thing to say even for a drunk. But he doesn’t, with the rest of Niall’s clan crowding them. Clifford, Hemmings, Lady Ronan arrive with drinks at hands dragging a very drunk Timothee who seems a little distracted with the sight of the Lycan Prince leaving the hall. They were all a fair lot - he’d probably even miss the giddy banters and drinking with them.

“We thought you decided not to come to the feast after all, Lord Louis.” Hemmings says taking the empty seat across the table. “But then I saw you arrive late.”

“I did consider it, since I was delayed. But then figured I should come in for a bit and say proper goodbyes.” 

“The word is that the King invited you to join the court, Lord Louis.” Clifford brings up beside Hemmings. “And that you refused.” He looks much less drunk than the rest of them, and curious. 

Taking his own cup for a sip, Louis smiles moderately. “Doubt the King would take no for an answer if he did.” Louis offers. Gossip does run faster than light in this city at times.

Hemmings and Clifford both nod as if it gave an enough answer without pushing further. And that was what’s good about this set. Not too much digging when they get the hint that the information is not for their side. Surely enough, everyone did try to speculate why the King’s long departed nephew arrived at Germia at all after years of disappearing, just to leave in a few days. Not that Louis took any joy causing speculations, but he decides to keep it at that real clarity. 

“But surely you are not leaving soon today. We’re planning to go to Clifford’s or Lord Horan’s manor a bit later once the party dies here. You should join, My Lord.” Lady Ronnan suggests. “Would have been fun if Prince Harold was there too. He’s the best at tricks and drinking games. His dry humour always gets the best of everyone. But we have to do with what we’ve got.” She grabs Timothee with her arm around his neck playfully but affectionately, dragging his attention to her and to the conversation. 

“Ouch! Watch it… hurts!” the drunk ebony haired lad complains, though he doesn’t make any effort to get free of her hold. He pouts trying to get a last glance at the Lycan Prince shamelessly . “It is ridiculous that he can’t actually.” He complains freely, loose with all the alcohol in his system. “Unnecessary precautions for someone as fair as him. It’s not like he’d lose control. None fostered at Nara-.” 

“Drop it would you, master whining? ,” Niall cuts in, probably much less drunk than Timothee. “I’m heartbroken already over Lord Louis’ departure. Don’t need anything else to make me sad.”

A clear unspoken topic among them then. But the remark doesn’t go unnoticed by Louis. 

  
  


After chattering for a further bit more, Louis bids them all farewell finally...specifically thanking Niall for everything he’d done to accommodate Louis here in the city. He even invites them all to come visit him if they ever take the route north which they gladly accept. Niall offers to see him off at the gates, but Louis kindly refuses, prodding him to join the rest of his friends to celebrate. 

“I’m going to miss you, Lord Louis. I’ll keep my hopes up that you’ll return sooner than you wish.” Niall tells him as he drags him into an embrace out of nowhere. 

Louis just smiles, letting his hand pat the drunk young lord on his back. Among all the pretentious, distant nobles that had flocked into this deceiving glossy city, someone like Niall Horan is truly an unexpected surprise for sure. 

Leaving them to continue with their drinks, Louis heads to the other corner of the hall, greeting away to several other acquaintances he’d made during his short time - so that it won’t look any different - until Rowland follows him with two filled goblets at hand. He passes one to Louis casually, settling to a corner occupied by a set of very drunk nobles drunk talking above the music. 

From the smell on his cup, Louis could tell that it’s unblended and considerably fresh.

“Drink, you’ll need it for the next few hours.” Rowland says, sipping his own.

Louis had been careful not to get drunk on wine. And he had enough supplies for the next two days as well. But he drinks anyway, gaining the familiar rush in the head and sharpening senses.

“You’ve got yourself a slave, I noticed.” Rowland says, watching him. “Smart move. He’d be useful if anything goes wrong.”

Louis stares back, not sure what that meant. “Are the things on track?” he asks.

Rowland takes a long sip from his cup before settling to speak.

“You’d have to reach the gates from the west, not the nearest east. Go around the ranch as same as the other rides from the west, and go into the path leading to the Isdole bushes. A slave will be waiting for you to pick Klaus. You’d have to leave a red silk handkerchief hanging on your window for him or he won’t come out from the bushes. The guard is down to minimum within the city walls today. So it shouldn’t be a problem. I'll arrange to clear the tracks from the road later. Load up the Lycan and leave the slave behind. He’ll look after the rest. ”

“The rest?”

“Need to set a diversion. No need to concern yourself with it. If you can make it to Sig mountains before midday tomorrow, you’ll be safe.” 

“How can a one Omega slave fight off a flock of soldiers guarding him? They’ll kill the slave.”

“They will be asleep. The slave going in to feed Klaus had already given them the draughts." Rowland insists. "And they won’t wake up.” 

Louis inhales carefully. Allison's batch of potions included enough sleeping draughts, he knew. He assumed they are for Klaus as well - to put him to sleep. But seemed not. Louis examines the cold, revealing expression of Rowland's eyes that said enough for him to connect the dots.

“You'd have the slave to go back and rip them apart in their sleep like an Alpha would…” he grits his teeth. “And what... are you’re meaning to make the slave take the blame for setting Klaus free?”

Rowland signs carefully. “Klaus’ life for an Omega slave and a bunch of soldiers. It would be the most important deed the slave gets to do in his entire miserable life. And as for the soldiers… you can’t save soldiers in a war.”

Louis bites his lip with a settling unease. “There must be a better way.”

Rowland glares at him, anger flaring red. “I’ve been doing this for far longer than you in this lion's den, Louis. There is no other way. If there's a gain, there is a price to pay... one way or the other. And this is the least expensive one. You can decide if it is worth it or not. Either you take it, or I can call the whole thing off so that devil can die just as he deserves to!” 

Louis stares at his owl-like face with a ringing inside his ears. 

They are saving a one life with noble blood in exchange for how many? When they were making all the plans and agreements, all Louis could think about was the risk he would be putting his own family on…his life on. But what about these lesser lives? Common lives that he didn’t even consider to give a thought about at any point? Lives much similar to Fin, or Ellish. The expendables that aren't worth for thought. Are they to decide that it is their time to die?

Soldiers aside, what about the faceless Omega. Surely as young as Fin and tender in his ways? How would they punish an Omega slave for setting a sentenced Alpha Lycan free? Would they torture him before or would they give him a clean death? Would Rowland know? Fin might be able to answer him better, since he was unfortunate enough to witness one just yesterday. 

“We can spare lives, I can take the slave away with me. Find him a settlement somewhere.” 

“And let the blame fall wherever it falls?” Rowland questions. “No! There shouldn’t be room for assumptions and suspicions." Rowland insists. "It should look like an act of impulse by a Lycan. An Omega who took pity to his own kind without seeing the consequences. If he takes the blame, there would be no digging. And that’s the best we can hope for.”

With a small sip from his cup, Louis sets it on the nearby table looking at Rowland. Clearly the worth of an Omega life amounts from zero to nothing in this diabolical city where everything was priced. To the nobles in Germia, Omega slaves are expendable and replaceable as same as an item of furniture sitting in their expensive lounges. And Rowland wouldn't be any different from that - nor would Niall or any other in his circle at that matter. The only one that feels even remotely different is perhaps the Lycan Prince, who seem as to hold no real power to do anything about it in reality. 

Louis sighs deep, fixing his eyes back at Rowland.

“Lord Rowland, can I ask you something quite irrelevant while we’re at the subject of digging?”

Rowland raises his brows inquisitively without a word.

“The trial against Prince Harold some years back, when he was accused of murder amongst other things,-” Louis plays his words carefully as Rowland’s curiosity turns into a cold impassiveness, 

“- what was the verdict good enough for the Hadids to let it all go?”

Rowland measures him with an ice cold frown seeping into all his features. His grave and searching eyes tells Louis the question was the last thing Rowland thought he’d ask. 

"I'm not sure what you mean." he sounds bitter for some reason. "And you are right, there's no relevance." 

"I know of what went down. The Hadid girl. Murder of a high born is a serious accusation. Especially when the accused is a Lycan, Prince or not. I don't see my uncle pardoning the Prince out of the goodness of heart."

Rowland scoffs, a dark bitterness aiding the scowl he shoots Louis with.

“What did the King do?” Louis tries again, wrapped in both concern and fear of what he may hear. “Hadids wouldn't have just accepted an order- ...”

“Sentenced him to be trained like a common slave is what he did... at the establishment in Narakh.” Rowland vents out coldly and bitterly, as if he was spitting on Louis’ face. 

Shocked at the terrible revelation, Louis stares back at Rowland frozen on his feet. He opens his mouth to say something, anything... but no sound comes out. It can’t possibly be true… sending likes of a Prince to that forsaken place. A highborn Alpha… someone with royal blood. The Alpha Prime, the title Lycans consider with reverence, divinity. It’s impossible to even think of something like that. Crude, wrong.

The way Rowland looks at him… blame filled and spiteful, it was as if Louis was at fault for it all. Louis could understand... Rowland is loyal to the Prince. And King Benedict did this… Louis' uncle. When he first revealed it to Louis, Niall so plainly pointed that the King _ saved _ the Prince’s life. It was as if he wanted to believe it to be true. Does he really? 

Louis bites his cheek inside, “H-how long?” he asks, shock still running through his system.

Rowland measures his face up and down with an unamused scowl. 

“Two years.” his voice is cold but impassive this time, his eyes still dark and faulting. “For a crime he possibly didn't do. Harold wouldn’t kill anyone.” He grits his teeth with an utter resentment, and perhaps even guilt. He couldn’t really tell.

Lost at words and mind frozen, Louis just stares. _Two years??? They kept the Homas Prince in Narakh for two years without anyone knowing? _

The chattering and laughing of the drunken nobles rang over the merry music around them. Glasses clattered in pitched sound. And it all looks tainted, sardonic and unpleasant at the face of this discovery. 

Louis just stares wordlessly around, spotting few familiar faces among the dancing crowd, unsure what to say.

“You should set out.” Rowland sighs, looking down between them, his expression unreadable - but calm. “Get him out of here.”

Then without a delay, he starts walking away, leaving Louis still standing there, unable to move. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that's not too overwhelmingly detailed. Do let me know what you think. I love to hear your thoughts as always.  
Warnings nor the next chapter... I'll try not to be too graphic.


	13. The Silver Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Departure...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello... Here's the last chapter of this part as I promised. I have a little announcement. I have decided to do back to Uni to do my Masters. I wasn't sure I'd get in this time, but I did. So I'll be starting with stuff in a week. Which means that I'd have to go to a hiatus with this story. Writing takes a lot of time from me so I don't think it'll be easy for me to juggle both at the same time for a bit. I was actually considering wrapping up here with a summery of what happens. But I'll keep my options open. It will take me a bit of time to do the part 2 update. And I've decided that I'll update it here as Part 2 without creating a series out of this.
> 
> So.. enough of that. About this chapter...  
As we all agree that my writings are not starry eyed fluff, please be warned that this chapter contains some graphic scenes. If you are disturbed by blood and violence, this might be not for you. Also this contains some heavy angst, loss and deep dive in to who Harry is finally and a bit of what he's been through. Hope you find it readable!!!
> 
> Warnings for Heavy Angst, Past Death, Blood, Violence, and unfortunately Torture.

It is going to be a clear night… he knew.

A night of white pillowy clouds gliding with soft cool breeze. A night where gentle creatures of the dark will wander around in peace. Stars would dim their lights across the sky, twinkling in distance while the silver moon reigned over, and the world would abide to the illuminated light, swaying to its tune.

When Harry was younger, the affairs of the moon always fascinated him. Particularly when it was this glowing orb illuminating the sky and the night without a care for the world. The night was supposed to be dark, yet the moon washed it silver when it wanted. 

A day of full moon was always a celebration in Homas back in the day, he remembers well...

It is a festival of joy and spirituality combined. Once each month, the people of the city would make stunning lanterns of colour in vivid shapes, and hang them outside. The lamps will be lit in every road, and the lakes will have floating candles in hundreds lulling on the surface. The whole city would light up, reflecting the sky. And everyone would dress in white, as to imitate the moon, offering their gratitude and calling for blessings while they gathered in groups, singing and dancing all night until the moon resided.

The Royal palace of Homas hosted grand, merry feasts each of those days. Feasts lasted until late. But being young, Harry always had to leave early, even if he wanted to stay as long as everyone else, though his maids assured him that he needed to go to bed.

But a full moon day is not a night for early slumber, so he would go up to his room in the oceanic tower and wait in the open balcony, staring at the moon. He would wait until the queen, his mother, would come join him there… which she always did, a little after midnight. In her white long festive dress, she would always sing to him, and tell him stories. Stories of the moon and wolves, tales of their ancestors and the pacts they’ve made with the moon to keep their people safe.

With black flowing hair and emerald green eyes, she was the most kind woman he knew, and the most beautiful… everyone said so.

She was the queen, and their Alpha Prime... a title everyone in the kingdom treated with such consecration. Harry didn't really know what that meant for so long - just that it is the most powerful position an Alpha could hold - until his mother explained it to him on such a night under the silver moon in the balcony.

“Alpha Prime is the one that holds the pact between the moon and the Lycans. The link. An Alpha Prime is here to contain the strength and power of our people, so they have better command over what the moon has blessed us with. To take their wolf form at will, without the presence of the moon. And be in control, when the moon offers us an excess of power. As their Alpha Prime, I can help ensure that our people have power to contain themselves, especially Alphas.”

He had been puzzled. “Can you control other Alphas?” He had been at awe. His mother was an epitome of power… because well, Alphas are muscular, and strong.

His mother had laughed.

“In a way. It's nature's will that they bend their knee to Alpha Prime. But it’s up to them to offer allegiance… so I can grant them better control and sanity during their transformation. It would be rare to not want that.” she had grinned then, gently putting her hand on his shoulder.

“But it is not the easiest title to behold, it’s a burden that requires devotion to your people. One would have to practice caution, learn how to keep conscious while taking the wolf form. It demands a lot of strength, patience and practice.” 

“How many Alpha Primes do we have in Emorous? How many others like you?”

“None other, love. Lycans are a one leader faction. Our people all over Emorous are allegiant to Homas.”

Harry had turned to queen Annilia with wonder and admiration. How many Lycans do they have in Emorous…? The highest number he knew then was fifty. And he knew that there were quite a lot more numbers than that. To think that all that amount of Lycans bent their knee to his mother… that was a lot.

“You must be the most powerful Lycan in the world!!”

He remembers her smiling at him lovingly, running her long perfect fingers through the mess of his hair.

“I won’t flatter myself.” she had told him tilting her head. “With that power, comes a great responsibility. For your own people. And then to people in other factions. It’s your duty to guide, preserve order and assist the world in whatever way you can.” She had pressed him closer so he was able to hear the beat of her heart, steady and rhythmic. “You are my heir, Harry. One day you will become the Alpha Prime just like me, and you will serve our people even better.”

“But when?” 

Everyone always told him that he’s going to be an Alpha, unlike his sister… or his step father, Richard. But apart from his green eyes like his mother’s he showed no sign of it at all. All his friends, even Ed, looked muscular than him in his short form.

“When will I be able to take my wolf form?”

“In due time, Harry.” his mother had always been patient with him.

“That’s a long time.” he whined. He would always complain then. What is even due time? It never came no matter how long he waited.

“After your first transition, you’ll have to learn… and practice. It’s in your blood. So you don’t have to worry. I will help you, as well as Richard. And you’ll have many to guide you. And when you are ready, and when the time is right, you will ascend to be our Alpha Prime, just like I did after my father. We have time…” 

And time, it was the last thing they had.

Time...

It was the most precious thing stolen from them when she bid him farewell before he was hurried off to a waiting carriage that one fateful night... hugging him tight as her heart thundered while tears trickled down her fair cheeks. 

And the most hated thing that tore everything in front of his eyes as he watched his mother on the moonstone platform in front of their castle…. shackled and crownless, a black masked executioner by her side waiting to swing his silver sword. She wasn’t wailing, weeping or looking frightened as he was in front of a sea of soldiers, people - Lycans and Vampires. But looking at him, her eyes with a longing only a mother would have for a child when they were parting ways as untimely as that. 

_ I’m sorry. _ Her eyes had said, as if she wished the time will turn back.

Harry hadn’t had the luxury to mourn their tragic rupture for long.

Not when time twists everything crude and cruel by the name of fate. Within just days, he was sat on the throne of golden halls of Homas as next in line, and crowned King, the High State Lord of the realm - the one thing he ever wanted falling to a cruel game of power just like that. He was then dragged into an alien country that considered his mother a vicious monster and believed that the Lycans are a barbaric faction, creatures of madness that turned into predators of flesh under the diabolical moon.

And diabolical it had been to him - the moon… as same as everyone else he knew in this city one way or another. Unforgiving and uncaring as the time turned on him. Now, he hated the moon with all his might.

Yet, it was the only link he had with his long gone mother, with all the lost memories and times... no matter how much he hated its unapologetic silver light. 

And as he followed the armored king’s guard now, with the burden of everything hanging upon his head, Harry could feel the it illuminating in the clear sky. The Silver orb that shines bright.

He had felt it since the morning… since the moment he woke up, the same as every full moon once a month. And with it, his frame of mind wavered like a flame in a breeze… challenging his calm and edging him with unpleasant predicaments. 

Gintel had soothed him the whole day, or had tried to do so.

And probably it helped.

He had managed not to lash out at the Omegas, Grimshaw, or rest of his guard. He had made it through the feast, careful not to look two feet ahead at the flashing throng of colours that might have blinded him if he did. He had not spoken to anyone, nor had he smiled. He didn’t know if anyone minded anyway. The sound, the light and everything else had felt like a torture in there, stretching him almost to his limits. But he had somehow managed not to mess anything up today… even at a dazed haze around him. He’s becoming quite good at this. His kin should be proud.

Yet, as he followed the King and his guards along the dim lit corridors, he knew none of it mattered anymore. Because he already knew how the night would end.

It would have been a relief, any other day… knowing what to expect. But today, with his increased senses and jittery temperament, it was the exact opposite. Dread trapped in mind, all he wanted today was to be not consumed with terror, fury and madness. 

Fighting to focus on his footing, Harry tries his best to stay at his cause. The sound of their footing on the polished floors stomps in his ears… as same as the clutter of the armors and swords - silver and shining. In front of the soldiers, the tall form of the King stepped ahead, leading the way to the chamber. The scent of their undead bodies, along with the smell of the blood they have consumed through the feast felt so grotesque to Harry that he wanted to cover his face. If he could take his wolf form right now, what would he do? He wonders. Would he be able to control himself and run away? Or would he give in to impulse and rip each of these undead Vampires apart - including the King. 

The mere thought makes him a little dizzy and loose footing. A soldier to his left steadies him with a grip on his arm. The soldier’s gloved hand feels extremely cold even on the fabric of his sleeve that Harry realizes he must be feverish. But it doesn’t seem to faze the soldier, or change the speed of their footing to help him catch his breath. Harry knew they’d drag him behind the King if they had to, no matter how much he tried to protest. He had tried enough times to know that it’s not a fight he’d win… and the consequences of such attempts had been painful enough that he wouldn’t do that to himself anymore, unless when he is feeling particularly rebellious. 

As they close on his chambers and turn to the final passageway, Harry is already out of his breath. It had a little to do with the speed they walked - he knew. He tries his best to even his air intake, taking control of his thudding heart. But then looking ahead, seeing the black hooded figures waiting by the doors to his chambers, his heart almost stops.

Lord Grimmas… and his apprentices.

With an acute sinking deep in his gut, and lungs fighting to gulp air as much possible, his feet stagger out of impulse… prodding him to a halt. It’s not that he could endure what King Benedict puts him through any better. But he could bear it thousand times more than the vile games that necromancer plays on him… robbing him of things he couldn’t lose. 

But he knew it didn’t matter. His impulse, his fear or his choice. None of it did.

The moment he staggers back, the silver-clad soldiers take hold as in instinct, pushing him - dragging him behind the King. There’s no use, he knows. But he struggles in their grip a little anyway out of whim. Because he couldn’t help it.

The King doesn’t spare him a second gaze, continuing into Harry’s chamber with Lord Grimmas and his henchmen at tow, leaving Grimshaw and the rest of the King’s guard to deal with the futile protests. 

He try hard to control himself, stop lashing out like he wanted to. It takes five of them to hold him, stop him thrashing out - and all he wanted was to break free... tear them into pieces. But as several the soldiers in distance take their short crossbows with silver arrows aiming at his knees, he knew he had to stop unless he wanted to face it all with broken arrows piercing through his bones.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


……………….

_ Get him out of here. _

That’s what Rowland said. Louis recalls, over and over. _ Get him out of here. _He knew what Rowland meant… who he meant. But Louis fails to shake off the surge of thoughts that flames up with it. Choices that might set fates upside down if driven into action, that might have the ability to change the causes of the future unpredictably. 

To crash the chess board and break the wheel of unjust lasted for years.

Previously, Niall had mentioned to him that Prince Harold doesn’t leave his chambers until a day or two after the full moon. So he should be alone in whichever state he is in, human or otherwise. And that should place him right where Louis had access to. No sane Vampire would dare to be around an Alpha tonight. Even if he has company, which Louis doubts he would, it will be Omegas or that old Beta maid… which can rarely be a threat. He'll be able to convince them if it comes to that.

If he can manage to reach the Prince somehow, Louis could probably smuggle him out along with Klaus - away from the clutch of this city. Away from this chess board where he is trapped, humiliated and without a real say. Not that he’d trust him outright, but the Prince won’t refuse to leave this all behind if he is given a chance.

Only thing is that tonight would not be the night to reason with the Prince. By midnight, Prince Harold might not be himself in the first place. His instinct would be to attack Louis the moment he sees him. So the only way is probably to knock him unconscious.

It is a pretty far reach, sure… but not impossible.

Louis had gone through enough Alphas before. Admittedly not royal blooded - but warriors with far maturity. And of course he had the advantage of Wolfsbane.

It would be utterly risky to use on the Prince, sure. And he won’t appreciate it at any point. But as far as Louis knew, the Prince had survived Wolfsbane before. And it is the full moon, the height in the strength of their blood. If he is given a small amount, it would knock him off for a few days that would be enough for Louis to smuggle him out of the city. And with his significant knowledge on brews, Louis can tend to him long enough until they reach the Gray Forest… keep him alive until Alison or any healer could take over. 

It seemed like a reachable plan. The only issue was how to get the poison into Prince’s system without getting himself killed. 

He’d have to go in, ready to fight…There was a dagger in Louis’ belt he could use. If he wiped it with Wolfsbane, a few cuts would do the trick… though Louis would have to hold his end until the Prince tires off unconscious. 

With his system running high with enough blood he had sipped through the night, Louis knew he had a chance of not blowing it up. It had been more than a half century since Louis fought an Alpha on a full moon, and it is an ultimate risk he’s taking with it all. 

But on the other side, he knew that if he wanted to get the Lycan Prince out of here, this is the only chance he’s got. The only open window for the Lycan, if Louis is selfless enough to take it. Is he truely?

In the house gallery, with about half an hour to kill, Louis felt as if he’s at a crossroad. Choices of fate… and he had a very little time to decide. The carriage had been already packed, and Ellish was outside waiting for his instructions - as well as Fin, who stood by the door eyes at the floor as usual. Everyone is waiting for his move. For his signal. 

And Louis didn’t know what he should do anymore… or shouldn't do, in that sense.

Only thing he was sure of, no matter what he chose between the two options seemingly laid ahead, is that he would have committed treason either way. Sure, one would lead to much graver consequences, tearing off the truce of peace between kingdoms. But what kind of a peace truce is it if one end is choke holding the other by force and abuse of power? 

The sting in his mind since he entered the city had been growing with everything he’d seen, heard and felt - something he pushed down and not to think much about for the sake of what he came here to do… But with Rowland’s last revelation, he really didn’t know if he could go back to his peace in Hampshion and keep up with it like he knew nothing of it.

When he finally gets up to his feet after brooding enough, he doesn’t really know what his instinct is, nor does he know clearly how he wanted to play with all the strings in his hand anymore. He doesn’t think far ahead as he drags out the small wooden box of potions from his cloak pocket, picking up vials of Allison’s nulling potion and Vervain with a bottle of thick Wolfsbane… or when he sends Fin to wait for him in the carriage in front of the door. And he surely doesn't think much when he drags himself to the dusty old tunnel at the back of the storage cupboard in the storeroom. No, he really does not give enough thought to any of it as a whole. 

But he knew that he must be utterly, gloriously insane to even think of doing this.

The limestone walls and stairs were as dusty and worn as always. And the weak flame of his torch made the tomb like circular way up eerier… but the silence around felt like a comfort. Because it meant that maybe this is going to work out. 

Before reaching the end of the limestone steps, Louis gulps down the content in the vial to hide his scent. When he knocks that locked old door and goes in, he would be at the mercy of the Alpha Prince and his own skill…it is probably insane of him, anyone would say so. Fighting an Alpha Lycan on a full moon is never the ideal thing to do. Nor the wisest… one wrong turn, one miss is enough to result even someone like Louis at the peril of death by the mindless killer that is a moon cursed Alpha. And for everyone’s sake, including the Lycan Prince’s, Louis desperately hopes that it wouldn’t come to that. 

Once the steps end and he lands on to the pathway, he’s hit by the strong scent of the Alpha Prince, along with a weak mix of Vampire. It is strange, but it might be of maids, servants who must have assisted the Prince earlier, Louis assumes.

Without making a hint of a sound, he puts the light off and reaches closer to the vent and the locked door. The scent of the Prince’s blood is so strong that things go hazy in Louis’ head for a second… The natural fight or flight instinct swirls in him as by habit. The sound of rustling, breathing, rapidly thumping heart catches his ear, along with pain filled whimpering.

It’s almost midnight - perhaps Prince Harold is holding off changing his form until the very end.

If Louis goes in while he’s changing into his wolf, he’s got a better chance of inflicting a few small cuts that would be enough to do the trick. Sure, the Prince would be in pain and at his weakest - it would be such an immoral thing to attack him in that state, but it would be Louis’ best chance… and the Prince’s.

Not wasting time to look through the spyhole yet after he reaches the spot, he takes out the vial and the dagger from his belt ever so quietly. But as he goes to pour Wolfbane over it, he stops in an instant, hearing a voice… and voices. Then more sounds altogether on top of everything. 

His mind raises… realizing that the Lycan Prince is Probably not alone in his chamber.

But how can he not be alone? It is a few minutes away from midnight. And by the scent and the sound, none in the chamber apart from the Prince were Lycans - but Vampires. How?

Next moment, his surprise filled curiosity turns to astonished concern as he hears a voice. A voice that he recognizes without a miss… the King, his uncle.

Mouth dry and thoughts frozen, Louis inhales as soundless as a mute, realizing that this is probably the end of whatever the plan he thought possible to get the Prince out. With a small sinking feeling, he leans down, looking through.

And what he sees is something he never expects... 

The chamber in the top of the tower had all its high windows wide open, with silver rays pouring in without any interference. The entire room glistened in the white, revealing about a dozen black hooded figures around like shadows against the light to Louis’ astonishment.

At the foot of the white sheeted bed, bound to a silver bar between the two posters was the Lycan Prince… stripped to his breeches, skin drenched in merciless moonlight. The markings Louis had seen before on his pale chest flashed in black like he’s been etched with a damning curse.

And he was bleeding...

He was bleeding from what looked like deep cuts running down his arms. In stunned silence, and utterly fazed thoughts, Louis just watched,... taking in the shuddering breaths of his lungs, the leather muzzle that locked his jaw with a silver cup and his dulled green eyes that stared at a void as if he was far away from all of this. At either side, two of the hooded Vampires collected the seeping blood to large chalices cautiously, while the soldiers pulled his head back by the chains hooked to a collar around his neck, as if they were handling some wild creature that might pounce at a given chance. They seem guarded and apprehensive - but there was no struggle or fight from the Lycan other than deep falls of his breathing that caused the metallic chains to rattle dully around his limbs. 

Louis didn’t know what to think or do, frozen at his feet. None of it made sense. 

It should be extremely dangerous and unbelievably foolish of these Vampires to be in the presence of this Alpha Lycan at this hour…. At the grasp of the prime natural nemesis of their race… the apex predator that had the ultimate pull and strength to tear the guts out of all of them with the effect of the full moon.

But the scene uncovered in front of him couldn’t possibly be anything more opposite of that.

The moon. Shackles. Blood. Are they trying to drain him out? This is utterly insane if anything.

In a corner shadowed by the wall, King Benedict sat with a goblet in his hand. Sipping whatever that’s in it as if he was somewhere else altogether, as if he had nothing to do with his ward bound and bleeding just a few feet in front of him. There is one other figure that stands out among the soldiers and cloaked figures… someone taller, hooded and utterly still, someone that had a black marking of a snake around his neck.

Lord Arlog Grimas. Louis recognizes.

The dark aura around him in the room clearly feels malistic and vile. And the fascination in his dark eyes as he stood there in front of the harrowing scene nearly makes Louis cringe. As same as looking at Prince Harold, who seemed at his weakest is such a crude way. 

The sound of the dripping red is thick, and agitatedly continuous. But the worst is his racing heartbeat, thundering as if it’s about to fail any moment… and his quiet whimpers, controlled but helpless. He would have wailed in pain if he could, bound and drained out like that... Louis knew somehow, hazed with shock. Yet the harsh gag buckled behind his head, sealed him to silence… as same as the shackles strapped him to his position. There is no struggle, no hint of aggression even under the devilish moon, even though the soldiers around stood ready to strike with their spears in case.

It’s probably moments past midnight now for sure. The extent any Alpha could remain without taking the wolf form at the face of the full moon. But despite the silver circle gleaming in the sky, the Alpha Prince showed no trace of changing… 

How? Louis had no idea. 

Instead, Prince Harold had started to turn pale, white with blood loss. His limbs also seem to sag slightly and his breaths less rapid. His heartbeat though, it still hammered fast.

“That should be enough.” Lord Grimas calls, standing motionless as he examines the chained Lycan carefully. 

The hooded apprentices remove the chalices from under the Lycan’s arms, picking up two more chalices filled in thick red liquid from the ground. It is all a fairly lot of blood… Louis realizes to his dismay. How long had they been bleeding him out? hours? 

Grimas’ apprentices leave the chamber with challises while the Lycan Prince continues to bleed down to the bed from his arms, staining its white sheets in harsh red. No one tried to patch him up, on one seemed concerned. 

With a last glance at the bound Lycan, Lord Grimas finally turns and makes his way to the dark corner where the King sat sipping on his cup leisurely.

“It’s done, your highness.” Lord Grimas bows. His black robes look like a patch of nothing in the dim light. “I would take my leave for the night.”

Louis watches as his uncle simply nods, eyes lingering on the Lycan. The doors shut behind the High Councilor and several soldiers that followed him, leaving the King and a handful of the King’s guard with the bound Alpha. The King seemed relaxed enough, calm as when Louis met him at the dressing chamber, taking time to finish his drink before he got to his feet. 

The caged intent in the King’s dark gaze hints at Louis that this isn’t over yet. That there would be more to this horrid affair in this illuminated night behind the gilded doors. 

Dressed only in an embroidered robe atop of his white night garbs, the King appears completely unfazed and unconcerned as he steps closer to the Alpha Prince... He should have armored up in silver. Even with chains and bounds, there is no guarantee of safety with an Alpha, right? But there is no fear in his uncle’s eyes as he stares at the Lycan. It was as if the King knew he had conquered him… had his choiceless allegiance regardless of his Lycan nature. 

Did he?

As the King draws near, the guards pull the chains harder - dragging his head back - securing him further. And for the first time, the Lycan starts moving weakly in his bounds, almost struggling. Tears drip from his upturned face, as his heart thunders. It is as if his heart is going to burst while his breaths rattled in madness.

It is fear… fear is consuming him above anything. 

Louis knew.

How on earth did the King get the Alpha Lycan to fear him like this? yield like this?

How?

It didn’t make sense at all. Lycan nature is to fight back. To not be provoked. Not to bear torment… especially not in the hour of the moon. 

There was a dark, vile and unnatural sense in the way his uncle ambles towards the Lycan. The way he drinks the sight of the vulnerable body in front of him with a sinister satisfaction and explicit greed. Unmasked... and threateningly wicked. 

The Lycan shudders under the gaze as the King just stands there, as if admiring his possession.

His possession… Louis knew that was exactly what his uncle thought of the Lycan Prince by the look on his face. The prize he won conquering Homas. 

Louis couldn’t read his mind - see his thoughts, but sourly he knew his uncle savored every bit of the power he had over this weakened prey. He knew how glorified, content King Benedict felt with power… he had seen it first hand years back when he was still serving the court. 

But he never imagined this. Never would have believed this. And at that moment, another horrific fear creeps into his thoughts - of where this might lead to. 

It can’t be… what he’s thinking. It possibly can’t be true. 

“You’ve been causing trouble lately, Edward.” the King says, trailing his fingers slowly down Prince Harold’s face, making him shudder. Even in his bounds, Louis could see the way his whole body cringes at the touch, muffled protest under the gag. 

“Disobedience is not a thing to tolerate. You know this.” he sighs, almost as if he had no pleasure doing this… when Louis knew exactly that he did. 

“Ready him.” King Benedict commands casually, taking a step back, removing his velvet robe without a haste. 

Louis couldn’t imagine… didn’t want to imagine anything … reasons or outcomes for this cruelty. Because he never thought it possible. This was beyond anything he thought to be the fate of the Prince of Homas by any means. 

The soldiers unhook the steel bar from the poles, dragging it back along the bed with the Prince as he still thrashed weakly even after loss of so much blood earlier. They tie the chains hooked to his neck to the head posts along with the silver bar, securing him to the bed on his back, arms outstretched as in a cynical sacrifice. One soldier, Grimshaw, the Prince’s personal guard as Louis despairingly recognizes, turns the Prince's head to a side, pulling at the straps roughly to tighten the leather gag in a death grip… making sure that it won’t come loose by any means.

Once Grimshaw gets out of the way and all the soldiers are standing at distance, the naked, sturdy physique of King Benedict draws close to the shuddering Prince.

Louis wanted to turn away - but he doesn’t… he couldn’t. He won’t leave this crude, harsh scene that easily, so in days he would be able to bury it in his mind and move on. 

He watches as the King climbs on top of the trembling body of the Alpha… intoxicated with power and lust. Louis watches as his uncle torments the Lycan’s already battered flesh, raking and tearing, drawing blood, just for sport … breaking him into a struggling madness with murderous eyes and off his mind… screaming and shirking under the gag as he’s reached the end of his wits. And he still watches as the King pulls back finally with arms stretched, feeding on the anguish of his prey and inhaling the stench of the Lycan blood as if it made him whole, powerful and aligned with the might of the Alphas combined... just to crash back in with force and speed, his teeth sharp and eager to feed. 

He watches...

……………

The moon still lulled up amid the clouds as Louis finally manages to steer out of the mansion.

A row of maids and butlers headed by Yaagine had bid him farewell in the main hall. And he had thanked them dutifully, managing to keep it indifferent barely while a mangled haze of shock still fogged his senses. He steps down the front steps unable to look at the sky - to see the same moon watching him again down here wickedly, now he'd been in on its vile secret. '_what are going to do about it?_' It's as if it was jeering at him... ridiculing him while it mock laughed in silver bright.

Fin waits for him in front of the carriage, with Ellish at the front coachman seat, anticipating his arrival. For some reason, Louis finds it hard to look at the young boy who stares at him with twinkling eyes. It must have been a pretty exciting day for him, Louis could see from his eagerness. It is the same look he had some hours before when Louis took him to the feast to show his royal Prince. 

_ If only he knew... _

Radel opens the door for him, and Louis gets in without a word, his mind running in a race. He almost doesn’t hear when Radel greets them, barely managing to return his courteous bow.

The coach starts heading forward, and Louis feels dazed, as if he is in a trance. Across him, Fin looks at him nervously, yet excitedly, as if he was in on some adventure. Louis offers him a marginal smile, that makes Fin lower his head, but with a timid affection painted in silent gratitude. And it makes Louis feel heavier in his heart. 

Fin’s eyes soon direct to the passing scene outside - the houses and gardens lit under the moonlight. It should be a beautiful sight, but it is the last thing Louis could see in front of his eyes.

After the coach sets out to the main road, Louis instructs Ellish to take a detour from west, going around the King’s famous ranch as Rowland told him to do. Apart from a few other horseback riders, this part of the city looks almost empty. Probably with all the celebrations going in the east and the mid part of the city, the roads in this area are deserted. 

They find the pathway to Isdole bushes without much trouble. And as Ellish leads the horses through the moonlit road, Fin hangs two red silk handkerchiefs outside the windows as Louis tells him to. 

“Let me know if you sense any presence in the bushes.” he tells the Lycan boy after getting Ellish to reduce their speed. Fin nods his head without a word. “_ Any _ presence.” Louis weights.

Fin looks at him intently and blinks, turning towards the front. He looks almost nervous.

“What is it?” Louis presses, bringing his voice down.

Fin looks back at him, looking anxious. 

“The two poplar trees ahead. I think there’s an Omega down in the bushes, Sir. A-and a…” 

He swallows the rest of the words as Louis gestures him to stop. Not that there was anyone else to hear it. Looking ahead, Louis spots the poplar trees about fifty feet away. And he catches the scent of an Omega Lycan not soon after. 

As they reach the place, Louis asks Ellish to stop a few feet ahead.

“Wait here, both of you. Don’t get down by any means.” he tells them both, touching the hilt of the dagger he had in his belt. Fin nods obediently, while Ellish looks back at him a little concerned. But Louis had told Ellish earlier to trust him…

Out of the carriage, Louis finds a pale, breathless Omega waiting for him by the bushes. He looked nervous, worn and tired. He is probably a bit older to Fin, more matured with time he’d probably spent in the capital. With his formal attire, the colours, it was obvious that he’s a slave from the castle… probably under the service of the royals. 

Looking past Louis at the red material hanging from the carriage, the Omega takes a step forward. He sweated as if he had been doing some heavy chores.

“Do you have him?” Louis asks carefully.

The Omega just nods, and with another gaze at the handkerchief, he turns and disappears back to the dark of the bushes. Louis just stands there, unsure what to do. He doesn’t smell or feel any danger around. Just the scent of the Omega Lycan. Klaus’ scent must be hooded already. He realizes. The Box Louis had sent Rowland had enough brews to hide an Alpha's presence. 

Something rustles inside the bushes. Something heavy, and probably in considerable scale for an Omega to handle. 

The Omega emerges back, almost dragging, carrying what looked like a heavy sack on his shoulder. A sack enough to put someone in if they curled enough. 

Is Klaus in there? Louis blinks. 

Drugged and shut to the world while the moon hangs upon their heads… an Alpha who would fare with madness if let loose at this hour.

The Omega pants, dragging it towards Louis’ carriage with all his might… sweat pouring from his brow. Had he been carrying it a long way? Hiding from soldiers? Sure, the security seems low around this area today… the guards assuming wherever the prison they threw the Alpha is strong enough to hold him. But it must have been an utter risk. Perhaps Rowland meant this all to go wrong anyway. Louis knew he didn’t particularly want to set Klaus free.

Cursing inside his head, Louis follows the Omega struggling with the sack. 

“Let me. You go open the rear boot.” he says, taking the sack off the Omega’s shoulders much easily. It feels like dead weight… as if it is a lifeless body - cold and stiff. He’d seen how Vervain works in a Lycan body. And with the mix of Wolfsbane, Louis had no idea how Klaus is going to wake up at all.

He puts Klaus’ weight in the rear store without much trouble… and the Omega slave stands aside, his head bowed, arms at his back. 

“Have you secured him enough?” Louis asks him watching his obedient, small frame.

“I have, My Lord.” 

“Show me.”

The Omega doesn’t hesitate. He unties the sack and drags the material back, revealing paralyzed Lycan body… and a thick silver chain that goes around it all the way down to the legs.

Under the white crude light of the moon, Louis recognizes the Alpha Lycan’s face from the memories he had seen from Payen’s mind. The same Klaus who stood beside Felicity, his sister. The same Klaus who he saw during the Homas’ trials some days back, shackled and was condemned for trying to kill Prince Harold… the same Klaus who the Prince tried to pardon standing in front of the entire court.

Klaus’ face was pale white, as if his blood had been frozen. His eyes, glossed with a hazy shade on them were open - looking into nothing… looking as if he had been dead for hours. 

Dark, bronze hair and angular, sharp jawed face… Louis couldn’t help but notice a stark similarity in his features to Harold up this close. It is no surprise, Harold is his nephew after all.

What would Klaus do if he knew what is happening to his nephew right now in that tower… in that castle, where he tried to kill him?

Would he try to save him? 

“Cover him up, and close that door.” Louis instructs the Omega, taking several steps back with a sigh. “And get on the carriage.”

The Omega looks at him intently… but moves to follow the orders. Locking up the boot, he turns to Louis, eyes cast down - slouched a little. 

“Get on the carriage.” Louis spells again, heading towards the carriage door himself.

He opens it, then waits for the Omega… But the slave doesn’t move from his spot. 

“I have to go back, My Lord…. Please forgive me.” he mutters without looking up. It is as if he was begging Louis to let him get on with it.

“I want you to get into the carriage, boy.” Vulnerable and young… he’s not going to leave this boy to kill a set of drugged up soldiers in cold blood and take the blame for setting Klaus free on top of that.

But the boy doesn’t seem ready to listen. And they didn’t have long to get out of the city if they wanted to make it.

“We don’t have all day.” he insists, impatient. “Get in.” 

But the Omega Lycan seemed adamant at staying behind. Louis wasn’t sure how Rowland had convinced the boy to do any of this… he was clearly not compelled. Which meant that the Omega knew he was on a suicide mission with this all. 

Lycans had an unswerving loyalty and they treasured it with ultimate pride and honor, Louis knew… especially for their Alphas. But this Omega had no Alpha Lycan to protect him. He would be thrashed and tortured like a piece of meat if he stayed… and put to death without any mercy. The last thing Louis could do after coming out of that harrowing scene he’d seen in Prince Harold’s chamber was to leave this boy to deal with all of this.

So going back to where the boy stood in his absolution, Louis does the only thing he could. He compels him, getting him to obey him without any resistance. And the boy does, following him into the carriage.

Louis asks a stunned Fin to help the Omega out of his palace clothes and wraps him with a blanket.

Ellish starts leading the horses without a word, nor looks back at Louis for any assurance. It’s as if he knew that Louis didn’t want him to.

Their carriage heads towards the Germia’s grand city gates with no interruptions. Two yawning soldiers let them pass easily after Ellish presents them with King’s invitation. They don’t bother to give a second gaze inside to see a compelled Omega slave curled down on the floor or demand to check the luggage packed in the boots.

As the city gates close behind with a metalic thud, the coach wheels speed ahead with no one but the glittering moon to witness. Finally out of the infernal city he hated, Louis leans back and closes his eyes shut, restless and bitter when he should have been at least marginally relieved. 

For so long in the blessed outskirts of Hampshion, he’d been able to selfishly and blissfully ignore what has been going on out in the world. He had convinced himself that by facilitating his own farms enough and staying away from Lycan slavery, he’s been doing his part one way or the other. 

Even while in the city, he’d been nothing but naïve, blind - missing what had been happening right in front of him until the very end. He should have seen enough to connect the dots and realize that there’s something utterly wrong and damaging going on behind the walls. He should have known that the King is capable of unmeasurable malice and evil to take even the most vile path to harness power, to conquer his enemies and the world - to reign over everything.

The entire faction of the wolves outside Germia believes that their Prince, their Alpha Prince is a traitor… when it’s in fact that they’d been robbed of him. Utterly. Injustfully. And cruelly. 

King Benedict had conquered the faction of Lycans _ not _ because their Alpha Prince had betrayed them, or _ not _ because Prince Harold had deserted them out of his loyalty to the King or blinded by luxury at the palace. Prince Harold couldn’t claim his title as their Prime leader because he had been restrained of his ability to turn. To take his wolf form even under the influence of the moon.

It had been right in front of his eyes. All the clues to see that something was utterly wrong. But he had failed to grasp it until now.

Sat at the speeding carriage, seeing everything that they are passing outside in a blurry vision, Louis suddenly feels as if he's lost. As if he is looking at himself from a stranger’s view. An outer view. 

He had set out to find what had happened to his sister. To find anything that would give him closure.

But now, even with Klaus safely unconscious back in the carriage and about two days away from leaving all this behind, his ears had been constantly paining him with distant screams in the side, muffled and agitating. And his mind floated images of the bleeding, bound body of the green eyed Prince he had unintentionally come to acquaint with… the same one he had spotted in shooting red in the feast among so many others. The same one he had watched through that tunnel as if he couldn’t help it. 

It seemed all bleak and distorted just like the scenery they were passing by. But crushing all the same, as if he was in the receiving end of a punch.

Yes, he had set out to find what had happened to his sister. To find peace for himself and his family. 

But with a tugging misery that he couldn’t pin point the origin, he was not sure that is the case anymore….

To be continued...

**END OF PART 01**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't try to kill me.... sorry if that all was painful. But the story is heading towards light I promise you.  
Do let me know what you think ... as always I'm eager to know your thoughts. Let me know if it's worth reading coz I'm in crossroads because of my future plans...


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